


Your soul to sleep

by feueriosa



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Ignoring captain america civil war for now, M/M, Past Brainwashing, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-14 01:19:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7146242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feueriosa/pseuds/feueriosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Bucky is abducted from the Smithsonian things are about to get interesting.  A story about Bucky getting his mind back, then losing it over Steve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Well at least we didn't dismantle DC

It wasn’t exactly an ideal situation, but it was remarkably easy to convince the guards at the Smithsonian to help me in carry the extremely large, heavy, and unconscious man out of the Captain America exhibit and into my car in the garage below. Definitely something a medium height and non-descript young women shouldn’t be able to do on her own, and possibly something to do with the fact that said large and unconscious man looked (and smelled) like a homeless person. I never could have pulled it off if our sexes had been reversed, people might think all kinds of things, but I looked harmless and concerned and convinced them that my ‘brother’ had a history of passing out when excited and that he’d gotten a bit stirred up with patriotic fervor over the Captain. 

In reality I’d hit him with a cattle prod I’d picked up in Australia, which had come with all kinds of exciting Darwinian type warnings emblazoned in red across the packaging. Apparently they used it on camels and the massive cattle that grazed the outback and saw humans only when they came to round them up. They seemed very keen that it not be used on humans but I was pretty confident it wouldn’t kill the man I’d just sidled up to and zapped. He’d been so absorbed in that particular section of the Captain America exhibit that he’d let his guard down. the crowd milled around him, ignoring him as if he wasn’t standing in front of a huge cardboard cut-out of a man who looked just like him, and who was supposed to have died over 70 years ago.

As soon as he was safely loaded in my car, I thanked the guards effusively and drove away as fast as I legally could. I’d mapped the route out carefully and it took less than fifteen minutes to cross the river to the slightly rundown area of Fairlawn where I had misappropriated an empty property that looked like it hadn’t been occupied since before I was born. It had taken a while to find the perfect place, the neighbors worked long hours and the garage had direct access into the basement. I’d furnished the place off Craigslist, and felt the experience went to show that, even if I did know how to kill people in 37 interesting ways, doing shady deals with extremely dodgy people for a small truck of furniture in a dark car park was still rather terrifying.

The tradesman who had installed the vice into the basement had started asking some rather tricky questions when I had specified the size of the bolts and the thickness of the steel used to bolt it to the work table, however I’d once had to watch an extremely passionate artist (suspected of dealing in things other than art) for three weeks, so I’d started gushing about the large, steel artwork that I had devoted my life to. Seeing the light of obsession in my eyes and clearly terrified of the prospect of being ‘educated’ about my ‘art’, the tradesman had mumbled about another job he had to get to, worked fast and gotten out quickly, leaving me to fade from his memory as nothing but another run of the mill kook.

By the time I got the garage door down, my passenger was showing alarming signs of becoming conscious, so I grabbed him and hauled him out of the car and down to the basement. It took several goes to get him in the chair at the right angle to allow me to clamp his left arm into the vice without it looking extremely painful, but at last it was done and I sat down cross legged a few yards in front of him to wait. When he finally started to stir I almost found myself holding my breath. The tradesman had sworn that nothing short of a 4x4 truck would get the vice off the bench now, but I had heard and read a lot of things about the man currently clamped in the vice, and none of them made me feel ragingly confident that any of this was going to work out the way I wanted.

I felt a definite pang of conscious as I saw the pained confusion in the man’s eyes as he started to come round. I’d read the files and knew more than I ever wanted to about what this man had been through in the past 70 years, and waking up in painful and confusing circumstances, tied to a chair and held down with a steel vice was sadly, probably quite common for him. Hardly a point in my favour. I felt his eyes focus on me and looking into them I was caught in his piercing gaze, analytical and calculating, observing and recording everything around him. I’d dressed in old jeans, a hooded sweater and boots, my long dark hair in a messy pony tail and no makeup. It was partly disguise to help convince the museum guards we were related and partly for him. I dressed like him, in the hope it would help me get through his defenses. Hydra operatives usually dressed a lot better than this.

“Who are you? Are you Hydra” his voice was rough, like he hadn’t spoken for years, I shook my head in response. “SHIELD then?” 

“No, although I’ve encountered both.. sometimes to my detriment” I dropped my head for a second before I straightened, lifted my chin and let him see my eyes “but mostly to theirs. I’m no friend of either, but I’ve done their dirty work before, like you.” He didn’t reply, silence as a technique to get more information while he assessed the situation likely.

“I want to do a deal with you” I went on, “I have something I think you want, and I want something that I think you will be able to get me. Not yet, but soon, you are going to have access to a person that I very much want to meet.” 

“What did you do to me” he asked giving his head a shake and testing the vice. He was clearly fully awake now and things might be about to get really interesting. 

“I tasered you. I’m really very sorry about that, but it was the only way I could get you somewhere we could talk without destroying parts of DC in noisy and attention grabbing ways. Since we’re both on the run from various official bodies at the moment, it seemed best to do this quietly and I can’t imagine you’re the trusting type, so approaching openly was out.”

He grunted in reply and continued to systematically test his bonds, eyes wary and alert. “What is you have that you think I will want” he asked eventually, “I don’t want anything, I just want to be left alone”. 

“Yes, while you regain your memories correct? You were at the Smithsonian, this is the fourth time this week, I’ve been following you, you’re sleeping rough and stealing money, but every day you go in there. To the exhibit. You’re trying to jog your memory, so you do want something, you want to know who you are and I can help with that”. I had his attention now.

“How can you help? What do you know if you are not Hydra?” his voice was a growl and his eyes were angry.

I took my time answering, I really wasn't sure how much he knew about the powers people across the world seemed to be developing, it was possible the most super human thing he had ever encountered (besides himself) was Steve Rogers, and I didn't want to freak him out. I needed his agreement and cooperation for this to work. 

“What they did to you, the brainwashing, the wipes… the chair” he stiffened at the mention of the chair, twisted in the one he sat in now, although it was an old armchair, soft and comfortable, as if he could feel the leather and cold steel of that other chair, “what they did, it damaged your brain, but I am very good at stealing things and Hydra have a bad habit of under estimating people, so I know what they did to you, and I believe that the memories of Bucky, of the last seventy years are not lost forever, just locked up behind walls that may take years to break down on their own”. 

Although I had his full attention, I could feel him watching me, analyzing the way I spoke, every unconscious move and twitch, but in terms of solid years of experience, I had been at this for longer than him, twenty years of learning to regulate every part of my being, every emotion I showed, punished until only the ones they wanted were visible, no matter how trained the eye. I’d gotten so good at this, I often wondered how I would ever show someone a real emotion, or, would it just be a brilliant projection on the glossy shell around my soul. He didn’t trust me. Electrocuting him was a bad way to start the relationship, but I had to keep trying. “Have you heard of people with abilities?” I asked?

“What do you mean abilities?” He looked a little confused at the sudden change in direction, and I realized, looking at his slightly sunken cheeks and the dark shadows under his eyes that he was probably exhausted. I’d watched him sleeping rough and stealing money from drug dealers to enter the Smithsonian, but eating had not really featured much in the program in the five days I’d watched him since he’d pulled Steve Rogers out of the Potomac river, and I’d realized that his conditioning had fractured in a very important way. He hadn’t stopped testing the vice and so far it looked like it was holding up well, so I was just going to have to trust that the damn thing would continue to hold, because I was going to have to feed him. It wasn’t that my conscience and I were on great terms, (for reasons known only to the deep dark parts of my mind it seemed to have an English accent and got very offended when I told it to sod off, which I did on a regular basis) but I couldn’t help feeling a twinge, when I realized he was probably starving, and even worse, given how he was usually treated, that he would never mention it. He was probably so messed up that he didn’t even realize what the sensation was, most of his nutrition was probably received through a needle or a tube for the last however long. 

I got up smoothly from my cross legged position on the floor, and headed up the stairs that lead into the house. Although I have many talents, some natural and some honed by years of training, cooking is not one of them, so I settled on boiled eggs and toast, since not only would it probably turn out okay, he would be able to eat it one handed. I wasn’t sure about his metabolism, but based on my own I just went with the whole carton and made tea, which since I doubted he had any preference, I made in the Russian manner with lemon and sugar. I kept a careful ear on the open door to the basement, but thankfully there no sounds of carnage so the vice was obviously doing its job. I might have to send the tradesman a gift when this was over. I had clearly underestimated the quality of his work. I put everything on a large tray and carried it back down to the basement. I wasn’t keen to get within arm’s reach, so while he regarded me with something almost like curiosity in his eyes, I pushed the tray across the room to him with an old broom handle I’d found in the corner. He looked down at the tray, and back up to me several times, clearly undecided what it was for and suspecting a trap. I’d included a teaspoon to crack the eggs, but hadn’t opened any of them for him, and left the bread unbuttered to minimize the number of things that could potentially be drugged. 

“It’s food” I said, nodding at the tray “you need to eat, you have a fast metabolism and you’ll have burned through the nutrients they gave you before the last mission, your body will start to shut down if you don’t feed it regularly. Do you remember eggs? They are safe, good for you. You cut the top off to get to the egg, eat it with the bread. There is only sugar and lemon in the tea, but if you want I can taste it so you can see it isn’t drugged. I need you alert, I promise I will never drug you, and if we cannot come to an agreement here today, I will let you go free.” 

I wasn’t sure if any of it was getting through, he was still regarding the tray as if he was waiting for it to explode, but then his stomach growled loudly and almost involuntarily he reached down and lifted the tray onto his lap. It is no easy feat getting a soft boiled egg open one handed, but there was obviously some muscle memory there from his life before, and once he got going he made short work of the food before turning his attention to the tea. Obviously it was the most likely object to be drugged, but he had clearly come to a decision about something because he drank it, which was when I realized that all good plans have flaws, because it occurred to me that I probably only had a few hours to convince him now, because at some point I was going to have to let him out of the vice to use the bathroom. Sigh…

“Would you like anything more to eat or drink” I asked, I didn’t think he would ask himself, but I needed him cooperative and was willing to give him pretty much anything to get it, although I didn’t want him to know that.

“The tea” he sounded hesitant “it was…. nice?”

“I’ll get you another mug”, I didn’t move closer to get the one he had. However he was playing this I knew he was dangerous and I was a long way from convincing him not to try and kill me the second he got anywhere near me. I fetched another large mug of tea from the kitchen and pushed it across the room with the broom. There was a slightly sardonic tilt to his mouth as he watched me and I knew then I’d guessed at least a part of his motives correctly. He drank the tea though and I could only feel, that since hydration was probably a good thing, at least we’d gotten somewhere.

I started again “Have you encountered people with abilities? People who can do things that aren’t normal, not just the way you and Steve can heal, or your strength and endurance,” although I had some of that too, there was no need for me to mention it yet, “I mean people that can do other things, psychics, telepaths, pyro kinesis, teleporters?”

“You talk of witchcraft and magic, these do not exist outside of children’s tales” he said and I’d obviously been downgraded to ‘totally crazy’ from the ‘somewhat crazy’ I’d probably been sitting at before this. Shit.

“You’re wrong” I’d had lot of arguments worked out in advance, but I had hoped he had encountered some inhumans before me. Starting from scratch was going to make this much more difficult. Great, just great. 

“There are more and more of them appearing these days, your friend Steve and the big green dude are just the tip of the iceberg, there are more of us than you can imagine, and what we can do.. it will change the world.”

He caught that, “We.. you are one of these not normal people? What exactly is it you think you can do, and how do you think you can help me? You say you know what they did to me, do you have files?” His breath had quickened slightly, and obviously the food was a good idea as he was putting things together now.

“I have many files on you, I’m willing to give them to you, but I don’t think they will be enough on their own, I told you before that the chair, what they did, it locked the memories away behind walls in your mind, I’m no neurologist, but I believe they will eventually break down on their own, but the reason I believe this is because that is what I do, I break down walls.” 

He was unconvinced, I could tell, but still listening so I continued. “I imagine what they wanted when they..” I paused and took a breath, calming the pain and rage I felt deep inside, “..modified me, was something much more spectacular. The first files I stole were my own and it seems they were aiming at someone who could actually control minds, to put in what is not there, and make a person nothing but a mouthpiece in another’s hands. They didn’t succeed with me, but that was over a decade ago, I’ve heard rumors lately that they’ve cracked it in the last few years. What I can do is much less useful, but not in your case. I can find memories, no matter how hidden or buried, I can find a memory and bring it to the front of your mind. I’m sure you can imagine the sort of memories I was made to torture people with, but luckily there are limits to what I can do.. I have to be touching the person, and if the subject is not cooperating, there is a limit to how much I can retrieve, one or two memories a time at most, sometimes not even that if they have very strong internal protections around the event.”

I doubted very much that I had convinced him of anything except the fact that I was highly delusional at this point, but he was humoring me, and as I well knew, information was information.. 

“Who is this ‘they’ you refer to who modified you? You said you weren’t Hydra, but who else had the ability to do what you say?”

“You’re right of course, who else but Hydra would play with my brain as if it was toy, and they a spiteful child, but they didn’t do it for themselves entirely this time, it was a favor, a deal with an old comrade.” 

The use of the Russian term caught his attention “comrade?” he questioned softly.

“Who else takes children and turns them to weapons, they always favored girls over boys, especially pretty ones. No one expects a beautiful women to kill them, they lower their guard when they are trying to seduce you. They perfected their technique long before me, I know you’ve encountered us before, the girls of the Red Room. You fought her on the bridge, you didn’t think she got that good by accident do you? They bought in experts to train us in every way to kill, and that asshole Kudrin modified us all as children, stronger, faster, resilient, fast healing. Didn’t you wonder how she fought you and survived? Did she seem familiar, her moves, her touch? You taught her you know, I remember watching you.”


	2. Baring my soul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alludes to suicide once, and mention of physical violence.

That seemed to stump him for a few seconds and I watched him as he processed it. His hair was long, shaggy and looked like he’d just roughly hacked a bits off that got in his way over the years, the clothing that he had managed to gather over the few days of his freedom was a motley assortment, all of it probably good for nothing but rags and too big for even his large frame. His lashes were ridiculously long for a guy, honestly, what man deserved lashes like that? Definitely not my team I reminded myself, but under all that grime and neglect he was shockingly handsome, perhaps even more so than the boy in the Smithsonian pictures because of the dark edge of danger and menace than clung to every inch of him. 

He finally lifted his eyes to mine, “I don’t remember a woman.” He paused again, “Did I train you?” 

“No, I got someone else” in my mind I felt the smash of a fist into my face and body, again and again, the pain and humiliation of the beatings, and knowing without any hope, that it would just be repeated again and again, until my head ached from the echoes. “I wouldn’t even be attempting this if it had been you, you would have been dead days ago.”

“I don’t know what is truth, you could tell me anything here. You remind me of the girls I saw on the street at night” he said slowly, “You smile and flirt, but your eyes are dead. The only thing I know is that you want something from me.” 

“How do you know that?” I raised an eyebrow enquiringly at him, he thought I looked like a hooker.. awesome.

“Because I’m not dead. You got me down to this basement apparently alone after the Smithsonian thing.” He grimaced slightly, probably at himself for being so out of it that he’d let me tazer him. “I weigh around 240 pounds, and you weigh less than half of that and you got me down those steps.” He quirked an eyebrow at the steep concrete steps that rose towards the garage.

“To be honest” I replied with a slight grimace at him.. “if you have a headache and the back of your head hurts a bit… that is definitely my bad. Even with ‘a bit more going for me’ logistically you’re really tall, and the fireman lift is not all it’s cracked up to be sometimes.” I shrugged at him apologetically.

He shrugged, “If you wanted me dead I would be, so clearly, you want something from me.” Not so dumb ex-sergeant Barnes. 

I thought again of how terrible it is, to not know your own life, to be a player in a game you can’t even remember, and just like that, decided to toss a large portion of my careful game plan out the window. I didn’t pause, it felt like the right thing to do. 

“I have your files, I mean have them here right now. I’ll give them to you if you want?” Obviously that surprised him and he looked up at me warily. He must want them desperately and could probably never remember anyone giving him anything he wanted, had probably never even considered that I would.

“Why? I haven’t agreed to anything? I still think you’re probably crazy.”

“Well at least you got that bit right hmmm?” I muttered, mind already on the logistics going forward. “Do you want them? There is a difference between knowing and remembering, but this is the first step, are you ready?”

He nodded, “Yes, I want to read it, I need to know…” he sighed “everything. I don’t remember anything. The man on the hele carrier…. he was familiar, and hurting him felt.. wrong. Like I’d broken something important. The Smithsonian said we were friends. I can’t remember, but reading it helped.”

“Okay, I’m going to give you the file” I said. After that we’d probably need to eat again, and, since I’d promised not to poison him, I’d better order food in. I doubted the Asset had developed an overwhelming passion for boiled eggs, and that is basically the limit of my cooking ability. I didn’t bother asking him for a food preference, figuring he hadn’t had time to develop one yet, and settled on Italian. He was from 1940’s Brooklyn, if nothing else it should taste vaguely familiar. I headed over to a dark corner of the basement and retrieved a lap table with a thick folder on it. 

His eyes followed me, focusing on the file like a laser. I pushed it across the floor to him with the broom handle and he picked it up quickly, eagerly almost, pulling it up on to his lap and flicking it open before he paused, seemingly caught by a flicker of something and, glanced up to mumble, “Thank you”, before focusing on the file with something that looked like desperation.

I knew how he felt, I’d held onto those tiny truths, so precious in a sea of lies in my head, every one I’d clawed back, even the terrible ones were to be treasured, because there is comfort in truth, when you’ve been made into a lie. I shook it off and went to upstairs to call in an order for vast quantities of Italian from a place nearby that delivered. I waited on the steps, keeping half an eye on him, while I thought about what to do next. I’d shit canned my plan in a fit of empathy (what the fuck!) and now had to pull something together on the fly. Thank goodness for evil Russian spy training, apparently it did come in handy some times. When the delivery guy came, he looked at my slim frame, back down at the huge containers of food, back up at the quiet and gently mouldering house and shrugged, that was one of the things I loved about delivery people in America, they’d usually seen so much weird shit that literally nothing could surprise them. Even my obvious weirdness was just one more in a long line and I could count on it fading from his jaded memory fast enough to protect us from any idle gossip.

I took the food back down to the basement, and sure enough, he was so caught up in the file, he merely flicked a cautious eye at me, accepted the food I pushed across the floor to him and kept reading one handed as he shoveled lasagna and chicken cacciatore into his mouth.

“You broke your conditioning?” he’d glanced up from the file he was reading after several hours. 

I was fiddling with some cute electrical gadgets I’d nicked from a SHIELD storage facility I’d raided last week during the early confusion. I had a bad feeling a certain Mr Stark had been involved in their creation, because they were resisting my efforts to subvert them way too easily for my ego, so I simply hmmmed in an affirmative way.

“What was it about that mission that made you break?” he seemed puzzled by something and I wondered again if I was right about the reason his conditioning had fractured so fundamentally.

I didn’t even think, the lie came so smoothly, “Gosh you know, it was so long ago, I really don’t remember that much about it.”

His response was like lightening, “No! You do! You remember it perfectly, images so sharp they cut you when you look at them,” he drew in a ragged breath suddenly, seemed to be fighting to stop himself saying more. 

He was right of course, I remember everything about every mission, the lie was automatic, a bad habit. The images are like perfect footprints preserved in the decay of my soul like fossils. I take them out to look at them all the time. 

“I was only 15 when they ‘lent’ me to Hydra, my term was five years to repay them for the work they did fucking up my head for the KGB. The first year wasn’t so bad, mostly honey pot stuff, messing with people’s heads, destroying lives, but not taking them. Within 18 months they clearly felt I’d proved myself and stepped up the missions, longer, wet work, the first mission that went over a week was when I realised the weird shit in my head helped me break conditioning if I went long enough without a reset. They treated me like a fucking guinea pig, experimented on me, so they didn’t even realise that might be possible.” I paused to catch my breath, amazed that I could find the words to tell this story, my own private nightmare.

“I kept my head down, did all the right things, but every time I went out I tore some more walls down, they put me back under between missions and built them back up again, but I was winning slowly, clawing back bits of truth. I was three years in when they sent me for a long mission, two weeks of reconnaissance. They wanted it to look a certain way, no stuff ups. It was a Russian minister, backing something they didn’t like, but they wanted the whole family wiped out as a warning, and it had to look like an accident. The minister, her husband who was an accountant, and the nanny. But the little girl, they didn’t want her dead, “such a pretty child, it would be a waste, there is room in the program Agent, bring her in unharmed.” I was to make it I look like an abduction gone wrong and everyone who needed to know the truth would know anyway.” I felt like I was dragging pieces of my soul out and laying them between us for him to stare at, but glancing up I could see that he knew, bone deep what I was saying, and that there was nothing I had done, that he hadn’t, no depravity I’d been forced to that he hadn’t endured too, so I forced myself to go on.

“I was out there for two weeks watching them, they were a happy family, close and social. I needed to find a way in, but the conditioning started to slip around the week mark, I started to question everything. So many things in my head that weren’t real, mixed up with what they wanted me to believe and what I felt was true, but I stayed on target, it gave me something to do while my mind unraveled, although I obviously didn’t think about it like that. I suppose…” I gave a small bitter laugh, wiping my hand across my mouth roughly. “I suppose they actually were pretty good at programming, because I still did it you know, like a good little soldier… Well almost. Two weeks, two weeks!! Fuck I was practically out, I had a grip on a couple of things I knew were the truth and some of my memories back, but I just kept on watching them, waiting for the perfect moment, and when it came, I took it. I took it..” my voice had slightly raised and apparently I was capable of actually expressing emotion, well done me. I’d never talked about this to anyone, ever. Who do you talk to when you’re an ex-mind controlled Russian assassin with weird abilities and PTSD. Maybe another ex-mind controlled Russian assassin as it turns out.

I steadied myself with a couple of deep breaths and continued, because he had a right to know who he was working with, I’d read his file after all and knew the memories I was going to be unlocking in his mind. “I did it, I completed my final mission.. I don’t know why, it was like I was on a path and I couldn’t get off it, but when I’d done it, and I looked into that little girls eyes,” such pretty blue eyes, just like hers, I’d thought. “I imagined that little girl in the Red Room with their needles and ‘chairs’ and graduation ceremony that strips more from you than you even imagined you had..” I paused again, such a terrible thing I’d done I would never silence the screaming in my head. “I shot her in the head.” I made the statement completely unemotional. “I shot her in the head and my conditioning fractured. I’ve seen her face in my mind every day, every night since that moment, the day I walked away and vowed to make them pay for what they did to me, and all the girls like me.. and the day I don’t will be the day I take a gun, put in my mouth and make the world safe from yet another monster.”


	3. Naming rights

The person who was apparently James Buchanan ‘Bucky’ Barnes, if the Smithsonian was to be believed, looked at the woman standing across from him, her breathing was steady, but her eyes were slightly wild, dilated with emotion, mouth a little too tight, like her words might be truth. But then again, if she had told any truth at all, a person with her training could look like anything she wanted. This was a cluster fuck. He was clamped to a steel bench, under the control of yet other fucking psycho... and he needed a piss, which he was pretty sure she wasn’t going to unclamp him for. On the plus side, food and semi decent tea, and his file, which he had read with even greater hunger than he’d eaten. She’d been right... the words were flat, grey, he didn’t feel any emotion when he read them, wasn’t even sure that he could feel anything. When the man, ‘Steve’ called him Bucky, said “cause I’m with you, to the end of the line”, it made his brain crawl sideways and fill with weird ghosts, tiny glimpses of something, hidden but so desperately wanted. If there was a chance, any chance.. 

DAMN, there was something in his head so close to the surface, scratching at his mind, she’d talked about the redhead he’d fought, but he’d only fought Steve and the man with wings, but just under the surface there was something, something about goggles and a garrote, and “Bucky?” said in a tone that didn’t belong in any of the scenes from the hele carrier. 

“It was a better choice than taking her to them, good strategy, they would have come for her again if you’d left her” He said.

She let her breath out like she’d been holding it, “I know, I know that, but it was, will always be, my first decision, the first time I didn’t do what I was told and made my own choice and that choice...” her words stumbled to a halt, she seemed exhausted “I’ve never told anyone that, didn’t think I even could.”

“You’ve read my file, I’ve done so much worse, more and for longer. I have to know the truth, so if you are a trap or just completely fucking crazy, then I’m tired enough not to care anymore. I can feel something in my head, something recent, like I saw him, ‘Steve’, before the hele carrier, so let’s say I believe you. I’ll let you do your thing and then I will know if you’ve been lying” and he held out his flesh arm to her.

There was no real change in her, but he had the vague feeling she was relieved. She was looking at him, calculating the angles, wondering if he was going to attack. She circled around him wide, coming in slightly behind him, and stood just out of arms reach, and stretched out her hand to touch him. He almost jumped, her hands were cold, it felt odd, wrong to have someone touch him without knowing what would happen, so he gritted his teeth and prepared for pain, because that usually followed touch. Instead, there was a weird feeling in his head, scratching on the inside, a slight buzzing headache and then a barrage of images flooded his mind and he stopped feeling anything. There was Steve, a red haired woman who fought like the devil, the man with wings, a vault and “Bucky?” said in a tone of such loss, such wonder, that it shook him to his core and then nothing as blackness swept through him on heels of a memory of a mouth guard, a chair and pain... so much pain.

Longing... Rusted... Seventeen..... He came back to consciousness screaming as the memory of the words made his brain go to static and new memories jockeyed for position in his head, each seeming to want to throw themselves to the front of his consciousness before the others. Steve, it was Steve and he was fighting him, trying to kill him. The red head, she’d shot out his goggles and he’d chased her down, narrowly avoiding her trap and attempt to garrote him, and then he’d shot her in the shoulder. He remembered when they woke him up, trying to kill a guy with an eye patch who remarkably had eluded him, before going back later to finish him off... at Steve’s apartment. He hadn’t recognized him them, it wasn’t until he said “Bucky” that his world had started to disintegrate around the edges. 

He’d questioned his handler afterwards, older guy, fancy suit, cold voice. He hadn’t even felt the slap that brought him back from the wash of memories that Steve’s voice and face had awoken in him, but it made him focus, desperate for them to tell him why... why did that one person, out of all the countless blurred targets, why did that one make him ache in places he didn’t know existed and feel... he didn’t know what. Confused? Angry? Sad? He couldn’t name it, just knew, that he had felt such wrongness when the man fell into the river after letting himself get beaten nearly senseless, as if not pulling him out would be the last thing he did, that somehow his life was connected to that voice, that face, those hands... ‘Steve’, and if he died, so would the person that now knew his name was James Buchanan Barnes.

He looked up slowly and met the worried gaze of the woman who had been inside his head. He didn’t really feel that he could doubt now that, in this at least, she had not been lying. She could return his memories to him, and if she’d wanted to kill him, she probably could have, with just a touch. “Okay, you can do what you said, what now?” he voice rasped, like he’d been screaming for long time, probably had been now he thought about it.

“Well that went pretty well, all things considered” she said casually, but there was definitely relief in her eyes that he hadn’t slipped away into the darkness. “I’m afraid that, in the interest of full disclosure, I need to mention that you’re going to have some truly horrific dreams tonight. I doubt you’re going to get a lot of sleep, but you’re going to have to try, to let the memories settle in or there could be side effects.” 

“Full disclosure afterwards huh?” he said a little dryly. He was having trouble hanging on to his sense of the present and she was washing in and out a little as she spoke. “I don’t think sleeping is really what you call it when you’re clamped to a steel workbench, but I think I’m going to black out soon, so that will probably take care of it.”

“No, I’m going to let you up. I doubt you trust me yet, and I don’t trust you either, but if you give me your word that you won’t leave or try to kill me, then I’ll unclamp the arm. You can have a shower and clean up, I’ll order some food and get you settled in upstairs.”

For some reason, the word ‘shower’ made him shiver, almost a yearning feeling, but he couldn’t remember what it really meant, felt perhaps a sluice of cold water and harsh chemicals was involved, but couldn’t imagine that would be something he wanted. She was waiting for an answer, and it seemed that this was a way forward, and anything was better than the static, grey wasteland that he had inhabited since breaking his conditioning. 

“I give you my word that I will not attack you, and I won’t leave… yet” he said guardedly. From the little he knew and what he’d read, he’d been chained down for the last seventy years, and he would not accept new chains willingly, even if it was just an oath that bound him.

She considered his words and nodded slowly, making a little humming noise under her breath “Fair enough.” 

She moved to the other side of the work bench out of reach of his real arm and started to spin a long handle. The feeling of pressure on his metal arm soon disappeared and shortly after his arm slid out of the vice. His shoulder was stiff from being held at an angle for so long and he stood carefully, swinging it to loosen it up as the plates clunked and whirred softly as they stretched and settled. The woman had retreated to the far side of the basement and was watching him warily. 

He looked up and gave a short nod, indicating his acceptance of her plan. She seemed to understand, because she beckoned him up the stairs that lead to the house. They came out in a kitchen which was grey and worn, the dishes from the eggs and cartons from the take away food were spread out on the counter, and the window showed it was rapidly getting dark, it had been mid-morning when she’d taken him, so he hadn’t lost a lot of time then or when he’d blacked out. It was important to him now to know... he’d lost so much time that he’d never even known about.

“The bathroom is over here, there are clean towels on the bench, do you know how to work the shower? I can turn it on for you?” 

There was a lot of words and he didn’t really understand most of them, but he nodded in response and followed her into the small room. It had similar dull colors to the kitchen and a cubicle in the corner that made him freeze and start backing out, brain screaming at him to run, but his limbs not responding. She’d walked in and turned on some levers on the wall and water was spraying out of something at the top of the cubicle. She turned to ask him something, and stilled as she took in his body language and wild eyes. 

“It is just water” she said softly, “It’s not cold, it’s hot water, a shower, people use them every day to get clean. It feels nice. I promise it is not a trap. Would you like me to get in there first?”

Her words were a little soothing, her offer seemed genuine, the steam rising from the water told the truth about the temperature, but he was still frozen, unable to move forward, he gave a slight nod, his breath tight in his chest. She nodded back and clothes and all stepped into the shower, the water ran over her, soaking her clothes and hair, she shook the water out of her eyes and looked at him “you don’t have to close the door, it just stops the water splashing out and it’s a bit warmer with it shut, but you don’t have to.”

He gave another slight nod as she stepped out of the cubicle and grabbed one of the towels lying on the bench. “I’ll have a shower when you’re settled, but I’m going to change out of these clothes, people normally take them off to have shower, but I didn’t want to give you heart attack, you’re in your 90’s I didn’t know if you could take it.” 

It was said dryly, but there was something in her eyes that found an answering echo in deep in his head... ‘joke?’ He had no idea how to respond, but his limbs had relaxed, his breathing calmed, so he just gave a rough humph, which seemed to be the right response because she gave a light laugh as she left. 

Alone in the room with the cubicle he started to feel a bit weird again, but the hot water splashing down was calling him, so he stripped off his clothing and stepped cautiously into it. His brain almost seemed to short circuit with the absolute rightness of standing there, hot water sluicing down his body, cocooned in warmth. He wondered if it was okay if he stayed here forever.

After a while he tried fiddling with the levers on the wall and succeeding in producing a water temperature that threatened to melt his skin off... perfect. There was something he recognized as a bar of soap along with a variety of bottles which promised various unlikely outcomes for his hair. He tried a few and then kept trying until the water ran clear, it felt good, right, like he was washing away the thing called ‘the Asset’. It wasn’t a real person, real people had showers and made themselves clean.. every day if the woman was to be believed. A shower like this every day? He thought that sounded like a pretty good idea. 

After a while the water stopped blistering his skin and started to cool, so he turned it off and reluctantly got out....and now he was freezing! The woman had rubbed her hair and sort of mopped at her clothes when she got out, so he did the same and found that getting dry made him slightly less freezing, but he was still shivering slightly as he turned to contemplate the clothes he’d taken off. Something about the idea of putting them back on revolted him, but he had reluctantly bent to pick them up, when a slight noise behind the door made him stop.. all senses coming to alert. 

There was a light knock at the door, and the woman’s voice “I’m leaving some clean clothes just outside the door if you want them.” As her footsteps receded, he opened the door and picked up the pile of clothes. They were similar to the ones he’d taken off, but clean and soft. Jeans and a belt, several sorts of tops ranging from thin with no sleeves to long sleeved, and a leather jacket. He stopped adding layers when he was warm enough to stop shivering and reluctantly stepped out the bathroom, carrying the spare top and jacket to see her leaning against the wall at the end of the hall, waiting.

“I gave you my word, I won’t leave without telling you.”

She gave a curt nod in response and indicated the open door she was leaning next to with a flick of her hand. “You can have this room, leave your stuff in there if you like. Kitchen is through there to the left, food is ready when you are.” She’d changed as her clothes were dry, and her hair was different, hanging down her back in a dark curtain, which swung as she spun on her heal and headed back to the kitchen. He shook his head experimentally and flinched as wet strands of hair flicked him in the eye. Hmmm.. 

He threw his clothes onto the bed in the room she’d indicated before returning to the bathroom to pick up his old ones, retrieving his cap from the pile, he glanced in the mirror, currently grey and foggy with steam and jammed the cap back on, tucking bits behind his ears until it looked vaguely tidy. He had the feeling that there was probably a whole load of things he didn’t know about looking after this body, apparently it required cleaning, feeding and upkeep, which made him suddenly conscious of his cybernetic arm. He hadn’t really thought about it before. The tops were baggy enough that they went over it and he had taken to covering it with a glove in the last few days, because a man with a fully functioning metal arm was hardly inconspicuous. Was it supposed to get wet? He gave it an experimental flex, rolling his shoulder and clenched the fingers... seemed fine, good to know. Technicians used to work on it, fixing fuses, oiling joints, he remembered them from the vault, but he was going to have to learn to do this himself now. No more technicians. He gave a quiet sigh as he started towards the kitchen, who would have thought there was actually an upside to being a brainwashed assassin.

As they sat in the kitchen eating more food that came in paper cartons and seemed to consist of noodles and meat in various flavors that were oddly alluring, she glanced across the table at him “So what should I call you?”

The question caught him off guard. Apparently he was James Buchanan Barnes, Steve called him ‘Bucky?’ and the last handler he remembered, still jumbled and drowning in images below the surface that he was not entirely sure he wanted to dip into, called him ‘the Asset’. None of these felt as if they belonged to him, so he shrugged “Whatever you want I suppose” he mumbled.

“No!” she spoke sharply, “you don’t do that! That body you’re walking around in, you fought Hydra’s mind control, best in the world, for that body, and you won. YOU won! Now you can pick up a stray dog, and you can give it some food, a place to sleep, maybe even give it a wash because it needs it.. that doesn’t make it your dog, just means you’re not a complete douchbag okay? Maybe you’re just looking after it, waiting for the owner to turn up and claim it... but if you give it a name, then it’s yours and you’re not going to let someone to take it away, probably even fight to keep it.” She paused and gave him a piercing look.. “So what should I call you?”

He thought about her words for a minute, accepted they made sense, but ‘Bucky’ made him feel tightness in his chest, like he couldn’t breathe, and ‘James’ felt too clean, touched by a hand that soothed, soft words, a warm smile, something precious he didn’t really deserve.

“It doesn’t have to be a forever name” her tone had softened “it can just be for now, you might want to change it as you get your memories back, that’s okay.”

“Okay” he conceded, “Call me Barnes.” It was the only part of his name that he could say in his head and his brain didn’t turn inside out, so he felt that was probably a good place to start.

“Barnes it is.” She nodded. They kept eating in silence for a while, but it wasn’t tense, he had good sight lines to the exits, back to a wall, and someone on his right that, although he didn’t exactly trust yet, he felt he could probably rely on if Hydra came for him. Felt okay, probably the safest he could remember feeling, and he was suddenly really tired, so tired he thought he might just black out face down in something the woman had called Kung Pow chicken (which was nice and probably deserved more attention that he was able to give it). He realised as he processed this, that although he possibly knew her darkest memory, he didn’t actually have a name for the women seated next to him at the table, who was eating with one eye on the exits and one on him.

“What do I call you?” he asked.

She raised an eyebrow at him, it almost seemed approving, though he wasn’t sure why. “Alex.. you can call me Alex.”

“Was that always your name?” she’d seemed to have a pretty strong opinion on names, he wondered if that was important.

“No...” she gave a light laugh, “I changed it a few times, my birth name was Александра” she said it in Russian, Aleksandra. “I didn’t feel it fitted for a long time.. my mother called me Sasha, I’ve never used it, it’s..” she paused and glanced up, eyes distant, and he thought of how he felt about James.

“Taken” he murmured

“Yes... taken, that’s a good way to put it” she nodded once, eyes warm again.

“What was the first name you gave yourself? You made it sound important before, made sense.”

“I called myself Natalia... something from the first happy memory I found” something had changed about her when she spoke the name, her posture slightly different, mannerisms pared down, eyes and voice flat... opaque and he realised he was looking at the Russian spy now.

“Why did you change it then, seems a good reason for a name” instinct told him there was something important here, and he needed to know, needed to trust her if she was going to be rifling through his head.

“The person.. the one whose name it was.. I thought she was dead.. they TOLD me she was dead.. A few years back I found out she wasn’t, it seemed like a good time to change my name.” she stretched in her chair, arms lifted and back arched and scooted her chair back a little, it looked natural, but his instinct told him it wasn’t, she’d put a little more of the table between them and her eyes were alert as if she wasn’t sure how he was going to take what she was about to say “I’ve had eyes on her a couple of times since then, but I hadn’t seen her in nearly a year, she’s a god damned ghost most of the time! I was following a rumor when I ran into your fight on the bridge, watched the whole thing through the scope on my rifle, thought I might have to kill you a couple of times there when you fought her, should have known she can take care of herself.”


	4. Coffee and Hydra

I wasn’t sure how he was going to take the revelation that I’d nearly killed him last week, but I felt he deserved honestly after decades of lies. He’d looked exhausted when he came into the kitchen after cleaning up, but he stilled checked me out thoroughly, eyes covertly examining me inch by inch in a way that was definitely not sexual. I was pretty sure he’d picked up four, maybe even five of the weapons I was currently wearing, I doubted he’d pegged the exercise monitor on my wrist, because it looked like a bracelet, pale pink with gold, no one gave it second glance in a world gone mad on monitoring heart rate and steps taken, but in reality it had quite a few functions that weren’t standard, even if you discounted the garrote built into the wrist band.

He’d kept eating, and I thought he might be just going to ignore it, but he glanced up “Good strategy if you’re looking to protect someone from a distance.. clean.”

I knew that Bucky Barnes had been renowned for his skills as a sniper, and I could only imagine that Hydra’s ‘Asset’ had honed those skills. Seemed he was pretty objective about it, which I probably should have expected, objecting to someone planning to kill you was an emotional response, and I wasn’t sure if there was enough human in him at this point to feel much of anything. 

I could tell he was exhausted after we finished eating, “you need to sleep, you have to let the memories settle in properly, or you’ll go nuts.” He seemed too edgy to go down easy though, so I was clearly going to have to take steps.

“The house is wired up, I’ve got motion detectors around the perimeter and a drone flying a wider perimeter, I’ll know if someone is coming for you, we’ll have warning.” He acknowledge me with a short nod, but didn’t seem to relax any. Shit! Now I was going to have be a bit more direct, my conscience might be a bit battered, but it still managed to give a good twinge at that thought. Mind controlling the deeply damaged ex-mind controlled assassin, just awesome.. but at this point it seems like the only way to get him to rest and I really, really didn’t want his brain oozing out his ears tomorrow because he hadn’t let the memories settle.

“Okay, how about you go to your room and lay on the bed and pretend to rest, I’m going to do perimeter check and turn in myself.” I hadn’t actually slept properly for over a week and I could feel the drag of exhaustion in my bones. Trying to appear natural and telegraphing the move so as not to startled him, I placed my hand on his shoulder and indicated the hallway to his room, with a wave of my other. He had stiffened and come to alert as I touched him, but his eyes automatically followed my gesture, and I brushed my fingers lightly over his nape, and dropped a suggestion into his brain with as much weight as I could manage in the brief seconds I had, before he scooted his chair out and stood, and I allowed my hand to drop away from him. 

I wasn’t sure how much I’d gotten through, but he moved towards his room and seconds later I heard the springs of the bed creak under his weight. I stayed absolutely silent, not wanted to move in case I startled him before the fragile construct designed to help him sleep, took hold. After 30 minutes of silence I rose quietly and slipped out the back door. Noisy hinges had been the cause of some quite exciting experiences in my life, so one of the first things I’d done to the house was make sure every exit point in this house moved in total silence. After checking the perimeter monitoring was all up and working properly, I walked back inside and ghosted down the hall to check on Barnes. His eyes were closed, and his chest rose and fell evenly, so either the suggestion was working, or he wanted me to think he was asleep. I couldn’t be sure which it was without touching him, which would wake him up and defeat the purpose anyway, so I continued down the hallway to my room and, taking off the minimum of clothes and weapons, I lowered myself carefully onto the bed and closed my eyes.

I reached out with my mind into the night and connected with the tiny droid, currently doing a pretty good imitation of a bat in the chill DC night. It hadn’t been something I’d known at first, but somewhere in amidst stealing and subverting Hydra tech to my needs over the years, I’d realised that this new stuff, this tech that was so smart it could almost think, functioned enough like a human brain that I could form a rough interface with it. It wasn’t perfect, and I’d had to work on it, practice till my nose bled and my brain went to white noise, but now, given time, I could usually talk whatever tech I was working on into seeing things my way. 

The droid in the sky, I’d built from scratch, and linked to from its birth so the bond was seamless, images, flowing into my mind in a gentle stream as I opened the door. She would contact me with anything that computed as unusual, but I liked to just drift with her a few times a day, her presence in my head almost as soothing as sleep. I’d named her Yel Ana, after a Russian goddess of wind and guidance, it seemed appropriate. I acknowledge to myself that in naming her, I was urging a sentience on her that probably only existed in my head, born of loneliness and long mission, whose end I was anything but certain of.... but whatever.

I slept, and in the morning, before I even opened my eyes, I reached out to her in the sky. She looked like a starling during the day, thanks to clocking technology, which I’d stolen from SHIELD. It was long before the world found out they were actually mostly Hydra, but now I don’t have to feel bad about nicking stuff from them anymore.. not that I actually ever had. Morals, sigh.. add that to the list to work on.

I slid off the bed and dragged on some jeans and a jacket over the singlet I slept in, in deference to my guest, and went in search of coffee, which I needed almost more than oxygen and knives in the morning. I shuffled down the hall and paused at the doorway of my guests room. He was sitting on the bed, fully dressed and when he glanced up at me his eyes were full of nightmares and pain.

I’m pretty good at getting peoples brains to basically ooze out of their ears, but healing massive emotional trauma and PTSD is not exactly my forte, given the marked lack of success I’ve had dealing with some of the things in my past, and definitely not before my first coffee.

“Coffee” I stated and nodded towards the general kitchen area. I didn’t bother making it a question, I mean coffee... but he gave a short nod and followed me out. I made two mugs, heavy on the cream and sugar and we resumed our positions at the kitchen table, automatically covering the exits and both stared into our mugs quietly as the caffeine soaked into our brains. Ahh higher brain function, there you are.

Barnes lifted his eyes briefly from his mug “The memories are clearer this morning, they’re in sequence and I understand what happened now, but I still don’t feel anything. They’re grey. I know I felt something on the hele carrier, when Steve fell, I felt something when my mask came off and he called me Bucky, but when I look at those memories, they are clear but it’s like they happened to someone else.”

“It’s like that at first.” I was no shrink, but I’d been through this myself, so I roused myself and tried to think how to put things, so they would make sense. “At first, it is clear, but grey. You’re seeing things through a veil of programming. The Asset would not have felt anything, so you don’t. The more memories you uncover, the less clear things get. They become bright, vivid, slashes of colour and ugliness, and then it happens. Suddenly you can feel everything, you feel the way the person before the programming would have felt about those things. And how that person feels pretty much boils down to pain, and more pain and then a bit more pain, until all you want to do is curl up in a ball and rock. What happens next depends on you. If you don’t want to let them win, then after a while, you pick yourself up, make a plan and go out and kill the people responsible, and blow up anything too big to nick that they value.” 

Okay, so I was hardly a poster child for perfect mental health, but I couldn’t help feeling that, since we had a fair amount in common, that might resonate with him.

He narrowed his eyes at little as he regarded me for a moment, then returned to the contemplation of his coffee. I was just considering the idea of breakfast and more coffee when the slight static, nails on chalkboard screech in my head heralded Ana establishing contact. The stream of images showed large numbers of dark SUV’s spewing black clad figures at the 5 minute perimeter. I quickly sent her to fly some tighter ones to check if they’d gotten past her, then to go back and track these ones. “30 second updates” I told her, as I shoved back my chair so hard it flipped over.

Barnes bolted upright at my movement, as I ran towards a large drawer on the other side of the kitchen “Incoming, 5 minutes maximum, unknown numbers, more than 20.” I kept the information brief. “Grab everything from your room, especially the file.” He was gone before I’d finished speaking. I dragged the huge duffel from under the counter and threw open the first of the two large pot draws and started throwing in guns. The next draw up held knives, and Barnes’ stuff that I’d picked up from the hovel he’d stashed them in before nabbing him at the Smithsonian. I armed myself as I packed the knives, threw his gear on the table and bolted down the hall to my room. Throwing my gear in a duffel, I dragged on my boots and ran back to the kitchen. Barnes was already there, holding a towel with his things bundled into it. I indicated my duffel and he threw his things in, and turned to look at his weapons. 

He gave me a slight eyebrow tilt in question “eh, thought you might need them, what with the incoming Hydra agents and all.” Grabbing my bag, I indicated the remaining 20 knives in the draw, “help yourself, then throw it in the car” and turned and ran down to the basement. A quick check to retrieve some tech I’d been working on down there and I ran up to the garage, closely followed by Barnes, who was almost bristling with weapons now. 

“Shit they’re at the 2 minute perimeter, they’ve left people covered the two exit roads and they have about twenty people on foot coming in fast. How the hell did they find you this fast, Christ, they must have you chipped, Fuck I am so dumb!” I spun around to look at him as his finished stowing the weapon bag. 

He shrugged “What the hell would I know, I was kept on ice most of the time, could have done anything to me. We’re going to need one inside for close combat, one outside somewhere high sniping, preference?”

“I’ve got Ana diffusing the signal a little, just to make them a bit cautious when they attack. I’ll take inside, because if they see me, they probably won’t shoot on sight, they’ll want to ask questions first, and I won’t look dangerous.”

He gave me a rather measured look “You look dangerous to me.”

“It’s so nice to be appreciated,” I dimpled at him, and admittedly, I was currently carrying so many weapons if I wasn’t enhanced I probably wouldn’t have been able to walk, “but I’ll change, honest.” I got his sardonic eyebrow thing over his shoulder as he ran up the stairs and I started stripping weapons off and throwing them in the car, kicking my combat boots off at the same time, pulled my jacket off and threw it in too.

I ran back up to the kitchen, flipped the chair back upright and grabbed a mug, pouring cold coffee into it. I ripped my hair tie out and hung upside down to give my hair a fluff, pinched my nipples through the thin white singlet, that was all I was left wearing with my jeans, and bit my lip a few times, before sinking into the chair and resuming the position of five minutes before of staring into my coffee. A Widow uses every asset at her disposal and I knew from experience that bra-less nipples and a sexy pout could get me a three guy advantage on a good day. I flexed my fingers on my mug and let the killer inside bleed through the veneer, thought of Barnes outside and felt a slight smile twist my lips. Today was going to be an interesting day.


	5. Fight the good fight

Barnes slipped out the back door and ran round to the side fence, a quick look over revealed a yard that hadn’t been mowed, possibly ever, and a large leafy tree with excellent cover and a view of the kitchen entrance and the right side of the house. He vaulted effortlessly over the fence, and swung up into the tree climbing until he was concealed among the leaves. 

He settled, checked his rifle and spared a thought for the woman in the house. He was pretty sure she’d done something to him last night to make him sleep. Since the hele carrier he’d spent the nights in an endless cycle of tossing restlessly, blacking out, and coming to minutes later screaming or gasping for air. Last night he’d slept so deeply he didn’t even remember his dreams. He should probably be angry, but he could only feel grateful, for that and for the new memories, which seem to have settled into his head overnight and no longer seethed painfully at the front of his consciousness. He was pretty sure he didn’t want her dead right now, despite having wanted this more than air less than 24 hours ago when he’d woken up in her basement, so he cleared his mind lowered his eyes to the scope and prepared to make sure that didn’t happen. For some reason, preparing to protect someone, almost felt like coming home.

He watched as waves of black clad commando types oozed out of the surrounding streets approaching the house, and converged on the entrances on silent feet. She wanted the element of surprise, so the first move would be hers.. he’d know it when he saw it. They moved to surround the house, whispering into their comms, hand gestures like a spoken language to him, and a group converged on the door into the kitchen. They hid under the window and used a scope to look in, then, radiating confusion, they pulled back and another one stepped up to look. Heads were shaken and comms checked. What the heck and she done to her appearance he wondered? Whatever the issue, they appeared to reach a decision, probably the other teams had reported back that he was not visible at any of the other windows.

They busted open the door and stormed inside. It was fast and smooth, a polished team executing a raid, but as the first few entered the door something clearly happened inside, there was a pause, the doorway was filled and the four men at the back had to pull up fast to avoid running into the ones at the front. There were three steps up to the door, which probably prevented them from being able to see into the room, so they hung back, confused for a few vital seconds, until he saw Alex explode through the doorway into the group, riding one of the men from inside down, her legs locked around his neck as he fell, clearly already unconscious.

He reacted fast, taking out the back two and moving slightly to cover the left side of the house. There hadn’t been much sound yet, but it would be seconds before they realized they had men down. He half watched as Alex finished the two remaining kitchen attackers, hitting one with some form of electrical charge, and climbing the other like a tree, before breaking his neck with a quick wrench. She was off and moving towards the right side of the house, and he could finally see what had caused the initial confusion. She was half naked on top, her thin singlet highlighting her breasts and through the rifle scope he could clearly see what she’d done with the pout and the hair. He approved, good strategy. It didn’t seem to work on him, but the delay said it had worked on the agents.

The other agents had noticed something had occurred and were coming now, swarming around both sides of the house toward the kitchen. He would have sold a true memory for a set of comms right now he thought and it almost stopped his breath. That wasn’t a thought the ‘Asset’ was remotely capable of having, that had been the other guy ‘Bucky’. He felt almost elated, but he shut it down, slammed the lid on those feelings and latched it. Clearly she was helping him, and he needed the Winter Soldier to make sure she got through this alive, so she could keep doing it.

Shot after shot rang out, each one taking an agent out, but they knew he was here now and his position was no longer safe, it could quickly turn into a trap. He spared a quick glance at the right side of the house, where Alex was laying on the ground at the corner, a pair of handguns out, keeping them pinned, her back completely exposed.. trusting him. Decision made, he vaulted out of the tree, crashing into the yard, rolling to his feet and slamming into the right corner, his own matched pair of guns slipping out of his crossed shoulder holster and into his hands with practiced ease.

He’d taken out seven agents to the left, plus the two by the kitchen. Alex had accounted for five of the agents who’d attacked the kitchen. He wondered if that weird droid thing was still sending her images or whether she needed to concentrate to communicate with it. 

“Headcount” he said into the quiet at the end of another of volley of shots from the right.

“Are we keeping score?” her voice, although soft carried clearly across the twenty metres between them, as did the amused tone. She was enjoying this? “Five more this side, well dug in, reinforcements incoming by car so numbers uncertain, 5 minutes out.”

His blood was pumping and his head felt clear and sharp, perhaps this is what passes for enjoyment, it was certainly what they were good at. He scraped his foot on the ground, making a slight noise to catch her attention and then took off quickly around the right side of the house, keeping low and quiet. He heard a rapid volley of shots, Alex keeping their attention fixed on her and smiled, with all this shit in his head and everything he’d done at someone else’s bidding, maybe fighting for your life beside someone who thought like you was all you could ask for.

He moved fast and low, coming in on them from behind, killing their lookout with one blow from his arm and emptying his remaining clips into them as he cleared the corner. Alex, herself out of bullets, threw herself at the remaining agents, with a flurry of moves almost too quick for him to follow and finished the last two with a garrote that seemed to come from nowhere, while a knife bloomed as if by magic in the throat of the one that Barnes was just about to gut. “Dammit that was my one!”.

“You’re the one that said we were keeping score.” She returned cheekily as she turned and ran for the garage. It was already coming up, the remote also appearing from god knows where in that outfit.

“I got Ana to fry their cars with an EMP pulse, we have to get out here now” she said as she slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine. He threw his empty gun in the back window and dove into the passenger seat as she peeled out of the garage and down the road.

“Who the hell is Ana?” he asked as his pulse slowly cooled as she put mile after quick, law abiding mile between them and the agents. She’d said the name before, something about diffusing the signal to his tracker.

“Ana.. Yel Ana. It’s what I call my droid” she replied, and almost as if called, something that looked like a small brown bird, but not.. in a way that made his eyeballs itch slightly, flew into the back seat of the car.

He jumped, a knife appearing in his hand by instinct. “It’s okay, it’s her, she’s mine.” He heard her but it took a second to unclench his hand and turn slowly back towards the road, glancing at her as he did. 

“That thing makes my eyes hurt.”

“SHIELD cloaking tech. She looks like a bat at night, and she’s usually flying the perimeter, but those two EMP’s wore her out a bit and I’ve still got her doing her best to block the signal from your tracker until we can get it out.” He saw her frown slightly, remembering her mistake, it had cost her a safe house and put them both in danger, although they’d dealt with it relatively easily. He could see it was bothering her.

“I didn’t even know it was there. If they’d come for me when I was on my own, in those numbers, without backup… I’d be back in Hydra’s hands now.” He wouldn’t go so far as to say he was trying to make her feel better, but they’d fought together and for all the weirdness of her abducting him and him thinking she was crazy for most of the time he’d known her, he didn’t hate her, and it was the truth.

“Did they chip you?” he asked. 

“No, the tech wasn’t quite there when I got out, but I knew… I knew they’d perfected it not long after that. I figured they relied on the controls, but of course they would have backup. So stupid!”.

They drove on in silence for about half an hour, then she sighed, shook her head and the cloud rolled away. She glanced over at him, smiled, and batted her eyelashes at him “so… do you want to get a room?”

It was weird, he was clearly getting to know her, he never even considered she was actually flirting. Interesting. He nodded in reply and not long after she pulled into the driveway of a run down and grotty looking motel. He approved, this was a place that would take cash, have little surveillance and not require much in the way of ID.

She disappeared into the Reception, and emerged a few minutes later with a key, and gestured towards one of the generic, paint peeling doors, to the left. He grabbed the duffel, stuffing the random gear she’d flung into the car afterwards on top and followed her into the room. The weird little droid thing flew silently in as well, landing on the window sill almost as if it was still trying to keep watch.

The room was bland and non-descript, faded, none too clean looking covers on the two single beds, cracked paint on the walls, an ancient TV set and a half ajar door leading into what looked like a bathroom at the back. Alex started digging through the duffel, throwing things out into rough piles, weapons, clothes, toiletries. 

“Shower” she said as she grabbed a few things off the piles and headed into the bathroom, emerging ten minutes later looking clean and scrubbed. Dressed in jeans and a tee-shirt, with no shoes and her hair in some sort of weave down her back, he still noticed three knives, and something else at her right ankle, as she moved around sorting the gear and repacking.

He remembered the shower from yesterday suddenly, and grabbing clean clothes on the way , headed into the bathroom.

Showers… whoever invented unlimited hot water at temperatures to blister skin deserved a god damned medal he decided, when he finally convinced himself to get out, many blissful minutes later. He’d been so intent on the shower he barely noticed the overhead hum that signaled an extraction fan at work, but it had done its job well, and now even after two showers the mirror was only slightly fogged around the edges. As he put on a pair of clean jeans, his reflection caught his eye and he stopped, arrested as he saw himself in the mirror for the first time in his memory.

Brown hair, in lank strings dripped as it hung around his face, and he gave it another rough towel dry before returning to his contemplation of his own face in the mirror. It had stopped dripping now, but looked like he’d been dragged through a bush. A word formed slowly in his mind, swimming up from the grey fog beneath the surface ‘comb’. He’d ask Alex for one and maybe something to tie it back until he could find something to hack it off with.

His eyes were an indeterminate shade between blue and green, framed with long lashes and filled with shadows as he stared into them. His face seemed normal enough, symmetrical with the bottom half covered in half an inch of stubble that itched vaguely now that he’d noticed it. It felt strange to feel connected to his own body, he couldn’t really remember anything about it. He remembered screaming in the chair as they tore into his brain to wipe out everything he’d ever know, but that had been pain on a level so visceral it hadn’t even related to his body. 

Now he turned his examination to the join between his cybernetic arm and his body. The join was heavily ridged with scar tissue that radiated out from the join across his torso, a testament to the trauma that must have been involved in the process. He shivered, maybe a ghost of a memory he didn’t have yet, or maybe just the rapidly cooling bathroom, and almost reluctantly he turned away from his reflection and headed back into the bedroom.

Alex was sitting on one of the beds tinkering with a small device with a red light that was intermittently producing beeping noises. She was frowning at it in concentration and a thin line of red was leaking from her nose and she focused on it. She looked up when he walked over and sat on the other bed, wiping her nose almost absently.

“I think I’ve got it, it should pick up the tracker now. Are you ready?”

‘Ready for what?’ he wondered to himself, but he nodded an affirmative and stood up, spreading his arms.

“Points for hoping it’s somewhere easy” she said, eying his bare chest dubiously, and got to work with the monitor, waving it over every inch of his body. 

Naturally it wasn’t anywhere on his chest or back, so he dropped his jeans too, feeling mildly strange as she ran the tracker up the inside of his leg as he stood there completely naked. She finally found it, embedded in his left butt cheek and while she prepared to remove it with supplies from a small first aid kit, he focused on how he was feeling, trying to track down the mild discomfort. The Asset would not have felt anything standing here, receiving a minor medical procedure, and yet, as he registered the cold of an alcohol swab, and a sharp sting as she efficiently opened his skin to remove the tracker, there was definitely something going on in his head.

It was the same stirring that had prompted a wish for comms back in the fight, and the enjoyment of the shower, and it came from the part inside him that somehow remembered being a real person, a person called Bucky Barnes, who knew how to laugh, and tell jokes, who had hopes and fears and felt things, real things. He burrowed into his mind, chasing down the twinge of feeling through the shifting labyrinth of images and thoughts. There it was, it was so close. He got it! He was standing, naked in front of a woman, who was kneeling at eye level with his genitals and it made him feel uncomfortable. He was elated, it felt like a breakthrough!

“I feel uncomfortable” he said, looking down over his shoulder at her. Saying it would make it real, this had definitely happened.

She glanced up, quirked an eyebrow at him in surprise “Barnes?” she looked surprised, “Well this is exciting” she drawled. Somehow she seemed to understand what he meant, he supposed only another ex-brainwashed assassin would understand how important actually feeling anything was. She slapped a small plaster on his butt, shifted back onto her knees and eyed his penis measuringly, where it hung.

“I guess I’m not your type.”

‘Well, that helped’ he thought as the feeling intensified immediately creating an urge to get dressed that was so strong he started moving before the thought was even completed. ‘Embarrassment, awesome! Achieving all kinds of exciting things today, Barnes’ he thought as he completed dressing.

Alex meanwhile had moved to the window and was attaching the tracker to the side of the droid with some sticky sort of substance. She opened the door and the droid flew off. 

“She’ll take it somewhere in the opposite direction and then heat up that spot until the glue melts and it drops off. Sometimes think I should have made it in the actual shape of a bird.. claws would have been helpful, but I’ve done this before and it works fine for small objects.”

They sat on their respective beds in silence, the uncomfortable feelings had gone, the adrenaline from the fight dissipated and it was comfortable just sitting. “What do we do next?” he asked eventually. 

She was sitting cross legged on her bed, starring fixedly at the wall with a slight frown, barring a few small hiccups, so far she seemed to have a plan, and he was willing to run with it given the signs of returning ‘Buckyness’ he was already seeing.

“Breakfast... and coffee, lots more coffee.” She said firmly, “and then we’ll head up north.”

“Sounds good, but why north?” Actually now that she’d said it, food did sound good. He really didn’t care where they went after that.

“I’ve got a place up in Vermont. It’s should be safe, somewhere quiet to work on your memories, but I want to make stop in upstate New York on the way, help ourselves to a little bit of tech support.”


	6. It's the journey that counts

Despite what I considered a right royal fuck up on my part, with the tracker in Barnes’ ass, things actually seemed to progressing fairly well. I’d taken a risk putting my life in Barnes’s hands during the fight and been rewarded by a significant increase in his trust of me. We’d fought side by side (and back to back) and now, looking at him over the scarred Formica table in the booth of the diner as he ate, his eyes regularly flicked up to check the exits, but he was trusting me to watch the part of the restaurant behind him. He was quiet as we consumed vast quantities of coffee and enough food to drop a squadron of beefy truck drivers, and I didn’t want him sinking beneath the waves of his own memories just yet, so I rolled out the dodgiest of an admittedly pretty dodgy arsenal of Russian jokes.  
“Hey Barnes, did you hear the one about  
Мужик жалуется другу “Кажется, моя жена мне изменяет”.  
“Друг “Как узнал?”  
“Да мы в другой город переехали, а к нам все тот же водопроводчик ходит…”

He grunted and gifted me with an eye roll worthy of a teenage girl, but I’d succeeded in pulling him out of reverie and him made stilted contributions to my plan as I murmured times, distances and numbers to him under cover of the rumble and hustle of the diner. We retreated to the scungy hotel room to wait out the day, cleaning our gear and repacking the duffel. I managed three more truly awful Russian jokes before he threw a knife he was cleaning at my head.

“Barnes!” I hadn’t even bothered to dodge, he’d thrown it a good 5 inches wide and it thunked into the window frame behind me, where it vibrated gently. I yanked it out and examined the hole, which thanks to general disrepair of the frame, wasn’t even noticeable. I tut tutted him with a finger and flicked it back at him.

He shrugged and went back to cleaning one of my guns that he seemed to have appropriated, but his mouth gave a slight twitch as he did so. ‘Oh yeah! Look at us bonding!’ I mentally cheered.

Ana arrived back sans the tracker shortly before dark, and not long after we packed the duffel into the hatchback, squeezed Barnes into the passenger seat again, and headed north out of the city. An hour later, I pulled into a Texas Roadhouse in Hunt Valley just outside Baltimore. I was starving again, and we also had more pressing needs. Barnes made sure his arm was covered, pulled a baseball cap low over his straggling hair and skulked behind me while I requested a table. I ordered a combo of steak and ribs with corn and baked potatoes and a beer, and Barnes grunted “same” when the waitress looked at him. She didn’t even raise an eyebrow at the sheer volume of food we ordered, ahh America. 

We didn’t talk much, just ate quickly, both of us seeming to feel the same urge to get back on the road, and with our need for food satisfied, we turned to our next issue, anonymity. The hatchback could very well have been seen leaving the safe house, they could have tapped into police systems and even now be scanning for cars matching its description, or even worse if they’d gotten them, the plates. I had spare plates in my bag, but it seemed prudent to put them on a completely clean car, so we circled the parking lot warily until we found a likely prospect. A nice anonymous grey Camry, not only was it unlocked, it looked significantly more comfortable than the tiny hatchback for the trip. After a brief hissed argument about who was better at hot wiring, I waved Barnes forward with a lofty flourish. We were on a schedule here. He followed me twenty minutes down back roads to the Loch Raven Reservoir, and I changed the plates by torchlight on the side of deserted road, while Barnes striped everything out of the hatchback and wiped it down with some bleach that I carried for this very reason.

“It’s clean, I’ll push it down there, it looks like it stays fairly hard up to the edge” his voice was soft but carried easily through the still chill air.

I definitely got some sardonic eyebrow action when he returned to find me already seated in the driver’s seat, but I was the one who knew were we were going after all, so I shot a bit of a smirk back with a half shrug of my shoulder and we headed out. For the first hour Barnes seemed to be busy working on his rock impersonation, but after that I got bored, so I started talking to him. I just chatted randomly about whatever song or show was on the radio, and I wasn’t even sure Barnes was paying attention to me until he spoke out of the darkness.

“I remember a song I heard, I think it was during the war, in London maybe” his voice was soft, almost a whisper and I stayed silent, waiting to see if the dark bought him anything else of his past.

“I remember dancing with someone, not the right person, just someone. This must be after Azzano,” his breath hitches slightly on the word, perhaps a ghost of remember pain and terror slides over him, and I shiver slightly too.

“I remember I felt wrong, but I was dancing anyway, some song about how nice someone would be to come home to. I remember this moment of clarity, through all the weird shit that was going on in my head, it was so pure and bright inside my head for second, and I realized, there was no one at home I wanted to go home to, they were right here, wearing tights, waving a fucking metal Frisbee around and throwing themselves into fights so big I couldn’t sleep for worrying about how to keep them alive.”

I allowed the quiet darkness to close in again in the silence that followed his outburst, and it was several long minutes before he spoke again.

“I don’t even know where that came from, I can’t remember before or after, just this one moment just floated up, whole, out of the darkness during that stupid song that was just on.” His voice seemed hoarse, like his throat was constricted.

“That’s what it will be like Barnes, the memories will come, out of order, random and circling in your mind like confetti, but slowly, they will settle, I promise. And you know I’m sure Diddy would be thrilled to know that ‘Coming Home’ triggered a memory in an octogenarian super soldier too, so there is that.” I chuckled a little, and when he didn’t reply I used the lights of a car coming towards us to flick a quick look at Barnes face as he stared ahead sightlessly, replaying his new memory over and over, and his face had softened almost imperceptibly as if he was watching something unbelievably precious.

The drive continued in silence as I follow the highway and another three hours slipped past as I drove through the night, with the brightness of small towns occasionally breaking the monotony. Eventually we said goodbye to the dual carriageway and turned onto the NY-208 north, and I cleared my throat to rouse Barnes from his contemplation of his past.

“We’re getting pretty close now, probably an hour out, and it’s just gone 0300.” I kept to the facts as he slowly surfaced, shifting in his seat, and giving his head a slight shake as he came back to the present. He gave the shoulder attached to his cybernetic arm a twitch, readjusting to the weight that would have been absent in his memory. We were definitely going to have to do something about that thing at some point, I just needed a minor miracle or some really good blackmail material to get the person I needed behind that idea. Oh well, problems for another day.

“So where exactly are we going?” he questioned. I’d been pretty cagey up until now with the precise nature of the facility that I wanted to hit for ‘tech support’, for a whole host of reasons which probably all boiled down to being a super sneaky spy with an inbuilt and hard learned inclination towards not telling anyone stuff until they absolutely needed to know it.

“You know I wondered when you’d ask me that” I pondered, dragging the moment out as my mind flew through the variables. His latest memory could honestly not have come at a worse time and I was concerned he was going to freak out when I told him.

“And?” He prompted, focusing his full attention on me now. He’d caught that I was playing for time and was starting to tense slightly. It was entirely possible that the tight quarters of the car was not the absolute best place for this conversation, so I slowed the car and pulled over onto a wide shoulder off the road, unclipping my seatbelt and stepping out of the car in a smooth motion as soon as it was stopped.

Barnes got out to, circled the car warily and stood in front of me in the apex of light cast by the headlights, balanced and waiting.

“What now?” his voice was flat again, the monotone from the basement and I could sense his new found trust in me slipping away.

“It’s okay,” I put my hand out in a placating gesture, “I’m not sure how you’re going to take this, and I really need you with me on it, but obviously, if you feel strongly about it, you can sit this one out.”

He relaxed imperceptibly, “Hydra base?” It was a logical deduction give our mutual past, but I shook my head in reply.

“No... it’s one of Tony Stark’s warehouses.” My words were greeted with absolute silence that stretched awkwardly until it was finally broken by a strange sort of choking noise.

“Barnes!” Oh shit, had a I given him a seizure? A few seconds examination scotched that idea, “Barnes, are you shitting me? Are you laughing?” 

The choking noise subsided and he cleared his throat a little, “No, I do not laugh.” His Russian accent had thickened, and he was clearly channeling assassin super soldier-iness. It was super cute and I smirked at him in reply.

“Good, because breaking into anything of Tony Stark’s is a gigantic pain in the ass that requires even genetically engineered spies to be at the top of our game. I drew deep breath and let it out, I’d been concerned that his past with Howard and the ties to Steve might have made this one a deal breaker, and I needed to be sure.

“So no issues right?” I questioned gruffly.

“The only thing I know about Stark, is that Howard was the prick that experimented on Steve with some weird serum. I got that from the museum. I remember a little of Tony Stark from briefings and your assessment aligns with what I remember of them. There is no issue for me, I only wondered for a moment..” he paused and looked at me consideringly, “I only wondered whether you felt your life lacked... excitement recently?”

“Very funny Barnes,” I growled back, “Yes, I’ve been bored shitless for days now, so just for a change, let’s go break into a high security compound and nick some stuff.” Barnes twitched his mouth at me in response, and followed it up with an eyebrow asking for more information.

“Things are going to be..” I paused, he was going so well, he’d made a joke and I hated to be the spectre at the feast, but these things always got worse before they got better. Right now he was skating across the surface of his memories, his feelings hidden beneath the ice so where they couldn’t hurt him, but I was going to take a fucking huge sledgehammer to the ice shortly and all those things were going to rise up and try to drag him under. “Things are going to get rough when we start working on your memories, and I’m going to need some pretty swanky surveillance equipment to keep us both safe, because you may be...” I wasn’t sure how to put it, even having been through it. A fucking mess, who couldn’t stop a newbie recruit armed with a sharp stick, was what I was thinking, but that sounded harsh even in my head. “a bit out of it,” I finished.

He studied me steadily for a few seconds and then nodded “Where do we start?”

“The facility is a warehouse owned by Stark Industries and used for storage of a lot of Tony’s old projects and other bits and pieces they’ve developed over the years, that aren’t part of their current product line. We’re in upstate New York, near the town of Kingston, but it’s a few miles out, so it shouldn’t be a factor. I got some information from a source, but data has been hard to find on what exactly is in there, and what the layout is, but as I said yesterday, security shouldn’t be too tight, so hopefully we should have time to look around.”

We got back into the car and drove into Kingston, skirting the town center and heading off slightly to the south. Around three miles out of town we passed a driveway with a high security gate and a serious fence, which I drove past without pausing, pulling up a few miles further down the road. 

“I’ll send Ana out for recon.” I said as I let her out of the car and watched her flicker and blur briefly as she changed her outward projection to her bat form, and flew silently into the clear night.

“Helpful, but that thing still makes my brain ache” acknowledged Barnes.

“Meh, just wait till we get all these shiny new toys from Uncle Tony.”

Just then images started streaming in from Ana, which wiped the smile from my face in an instant. Instead of the of a mostly deserted warehouse, the images showed a significant number of heat signals in the building, and the scaffold and cranes surrounding the west section of the building showed clearly in the moonlight.

“Shit! Fuck! Damn!” Why did everything have to be complicated, I could have really done without another kick in the face after yesterday.

“What’s wrong?” Barnes was on the alert, his posture snapping tense at my words and his eyes scanning the dimly lit road around us.

“Something is going on at the warehouse, there is some sort of work being done, and there are a lot more bodies in there than I was expecting.... Fuck!” I took a deep breath, “Okay, change of plan, we’ll hole up somewhere nearby, and check it out again when it’s light. If we think we can still take it, we’ll go in this time tomorrow. Agreed?”

Barnes nodded, already moving back to the car, I hopped back in the driver’s seat, cracking open a window for Ana and we headed off down the dark road in search of somewhere to wait out the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Russian Joke:  
> One man says to his friend:  
> — I think my wife cheating me.  
> Friend:  
> — How do you know?  
> — We’ve moved to another city but our plumber still the same


	7. Stealing home

Alex pulled off the road down a rutted track towards a slightly darker mass that looked like some form of animal shelter, pulling the car in behind some low bushes that hid it from the road. She was still muttering curses aimed at Tony Stark under her breath at intervals. 

“Recon, I’ll go right and wide.” She said, drawing a weapon as she went.

He slid one of his guns out of his shoulder holster and slipped around the left side of the dark mass. He’d been right, it was definitely an old disused animal barn, still smelling faintly of them, the ground covered with hay. Inside there were a couple of stalls, which seemed like a good place to bed down in. Good cover.

His check complete, he stepped down into one, leaving the door ajar, and settled on the ground in the corner facing it, leaning his back against the wall. The memory had caught him by surprise. He’d felt something, a tiny itch at the back of his mind at the Smithsonian, something that told him not everything about him and Steve could be found on their walls, but he hadn’t realised that there was more than friendship between them. Had Steve felt the same way? He’d seemed ridiculously ready to throw his life away to get through to him on the hele carrier. Would a friend, even one as close as they’d apparently been, do that? He had no answers, how would he know what friends did? The only person he could actually say he ‘knew’ apart from Steve had tasered him a little over 48 hours ago.

As if called by his thought, Alex appeared in the door of the stall like a ghost. She was incredibly quiet, even lost in thought he should have heard her. He’d have to remember that.

“All clear.” She settled in the opposite corner, and leaned her head back against the wall, before giving it a couple of quiet bangs, still obviously pissed by the developments at the Stark warehouse.

After nearly a minute of quiet she murmured “Ana says it’s quiet and clear. We should get some sleep, do you want first watch?”

He nodded, he needed some time to think. He hadn’t really considered that he would get good memories back. The need to know his past, his truth, it drove him, burning inside, but he’d thought there would be only pain and horror to be uncovered. How he remembered feeling, in that brief moment of memory, it had stolen his breath away.

“Alex?” He knew she wasn’t asleep yet, her breath unchanged, and he needed to know.

“Hmmm?” She sounded distracted, probably talking to that weird bird/bat thing, but he ploughed on.

“Do men...” he paused, okay this was clearly more difficult to say out loud than in his head. He tried again, “Do some men have feelings for men, like.. girl feelings?”

“Girl feelings?” There was a slight edge to her voice, that made him feel he probably should have thought that sentence through a bit better.

“Not feelings like a girl has, you know, like how a guy is supposed to feel about girls... but with a man.” Well that was so much clearer..

“Oh. Ohhhh.” Well at least she sounded friendlier now. “Yes Barnes, they even have names for it. Gay is for guys that just like guys, bisexual is if you like guys and girls, lesbian is girls that just like girls, which is me. There’s something called pansexual too, which sort of means anyone I think, and asexual is you only like them platonically. It’s not illegal in lots of the world any more either, which is a bonus.”

“Oh, okay.” He pondered that for a moment before blurting out “You like girls?”

There was a little huff of amusement before she answered. “Yes Barnes, I’d usually tell guys I’ll arm wrestle them for any cute girls we meet, but given these questions I’m guessing that’s not really going to come up.” 

He snorted “Smithsonian reckons I was a big hit with the ladies, I reckon I can take you.”

“Blah blah Barnes. I’m going to sleep, wake me in 2 hours.” He heard her move quietly in the hay, settling and, moving himself to a more comfortable position so he wouldn’t wake her by moving later, settled in to sift through his new memories again in light of this new information.

Later, after his two hour sleep, Barnes wouldn’t not exactly classify himself as well rested, and if asked to report on his condition, would probably mention a very strong urge for coffee. Alex woke him with a rap on the stall door, with the car already packed and ready to go. The fact that she could clearly move around him while he slept, without him waking puzzled him. He wasn’t sure if that meant he trusted her, or that she was just very very good.

They drove back into Kingston for breakfast and (thank God!) coffee, leaving Ana to run new surveillance in the light of day. The Diner was busy, even this early, but he supposed that was good cover, even though it sent his heart racing and nerves tingling every time the door chimed or the waitress bustled by, until he was distracted by the arrival of the food. The huge cooked breakfast had eggs, fried potatoes, bacon and toast, and, with the large mugs of bitter coffee sweetened with creamer and sugar waking him up, he found himself oddly aware of the food. The whole meal was a satisfying combination of salty and fatty. Soft, runny eggs combined with the crunch of buttered toast, then the flood of taste from the salty bacon. The potatoes were fried crispy and seasoned with something that made his tongue tingle and his eyes water a little. It was amazing!

He finally lifted his eyes from his meal to find Alex watching him with amusement, but also, he thought, a hint of approval. He nodded at her, “Food’s good here.”

“I’m glad you noticed Barnes.”

Definitely approval. He thought about it as he chewed his way through more of his meal, washing it down with the seemingly endless supply of coffee the waitress ensured he had. This was the first meal he really remembered eating. He remembered that he had eaten, quite a lot actually since Alex nabbed him, but this was the first time he’d actually been conscious of what he’d eaten. The Asset would have viewed food as necessary only to fuel his body. He supposed this was progress. He wished all the progress could taste this good, but somehow he doubted it would.

Alex got that distant look in her eye that meant she was talking to Ana as they finished up their meal and left. She took the passenger seat when they got to the car, leaning her head back against the rest and closing her eyes. If it hadn’t been for the thin stream of red that leaked from her nose after a minute, he might almost have suspected she was taking a nap, he almost felt like one himself his stomach was so full. He drove out of town, in the opposite direction, stopping in deserted parking lot after a few miles to wait.

“Surveillance pics show around thirty workers on site, they seem to be involved in some sort of construction work on the west wing of the building, where we saw the scaffold and cranes last night. They’re driving in and out, and security seems light, just a few guards running the perimeter.” 

She shook her head as she came out, and turned to him, “Could make things easier, they seem to be staying on site, so there will be a lot more noise and people moving around than usual and they don’t’ seemed to have upped security much from what I was expecting. According to my intel, what I need was being stored in the large area on the south side, it’s going to be tight, and they might have moved things around because of the works. What do you think?”

Barnes took his time answering, in fact it took him a few seconds to process her question. He couldn’t really remember anyone asking what he thought about an Op before. So what did he think... Not actually very much usually, but this morning he’d thought about food, so maybe he could think about this to. 

“Sounds okay, I reckon it looks pretty simple, though I’m sure it won’t be with a Stark involved, but honestly, if we can’t pull this off, we should probably hang up the super sneaky assassin / spy cloak for good.”

“Good point Barnes. Several good points actually, things are never simple with a Stark. I’ll keep Ana on surveillance so we can get a good idea of the security patterns, we’ll head back to the barn if it looks okay, bunk down there till night, hit it around 0300, okay?”

“Sounds good” he acknowledged, starting the car and heading back out of town towards their previous hidey hole.

The barn was still quiet and deserted, they managed to get the doors open enough to get the car inside so it wouldn’t be visible to any aerial surveillance that might be running in the area. Alex took first watch and Barnes stretched out in the slightly scratchy, sweet smelling hay. His mind churned for a while, throwing up glimpses of memories, but he was warm, very full and someone else was on watch. It was probably the most comfortable he could ever remember being, and certainly the safest, so he closed his eyes and almost without knowing it, drifted off to sleep.

“Longing, Rusted, Seventeen..” he came to screaming, a hand on his shoulder and for a several long seconds he was back in the chair, before he realised the hand wasn’t holding him down, and a soft and mildly familiar voice was murmuring comforting things to him, rubbing a small circle on his undamaged shoulder. He opened his eyes, to a pair of worried dark blue ones with a decidedly quizzical set to the eyebrows.

“You back with me Barnes?”

He grunted in a mildly affirmative way and gave his head a shake to clear the remnants of dread that filled him to his soul at those words, those hated words. She was still regarding him questioningly, so he gave her knee a pat as he got up. “I’m okay, I remember. Thanks for bringing me back.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re going to give me a god dammed heart attach before this is over Barnes, but I doubt it’s going to the last time one of us wakes up screaming before we’re through this.” She huffed out a breath, letting go of tension, “You okay for watch now?”

He nodded, and spent the next hour watching the sunlight crawl across the wall of the barn from the nook he found behind the half closed doors while he worried. These words, he knew them when he didn’t know anything else, and they gave whoever possessed them total control over him, like he was a thing with no mind of his own. Barnes wasn’t sure if the words would still work now he knew he had a mind, but he got a bad feeling in his stomach when he thought about them, which made him think that he really, really didn’t want to find out. Maybe if Alex was going to be digging around in his mind, she could dig out the words and burn them for him. He’d have to remember to ask her. How else would he ever be really free, if someone could walk up to him and take him over with just ten words.

Sadly they decided it was too much of a risk to drive in and out of town for food during the day, so they ate some MRE’s from the ever helpful duffel. Barnes realised at this point that all food was most definitely not created equal. Some food was, in fact, a form of unadulterated evil that he hoped to never encounter again. Alex assured him after some fairly vigorous complaining that they would not actually kill him, and apparently he should be happy, because The Asset had probably lived on things like this in the field and never given them a second thought. Bleh!

As the night deepened, they prepped their gear, checking their weapons and running through the information Ana had fed them over the day about the security detail.

“Security seem to run a pretty standard configuration, so we’ll have about 10 minutes tops to get into the building. I’m going to send Ana in through the open doors on the west wing shortly, so she can start cozying up to the security systems. I’ll link up to her and get the door, there, on the south side open, but I need to be pretty close, because she’ll be inside. I’ll need every one of those ten minutes, so you keep watch in case anything changes, but remember, I don’t want to go round killing Tony’s guys, you never know when you might need a guy who’s good with a spanner,” She gave his arm a nod.

“Non-lethal parameters. Check.” She’d given him a new weapon, sleek and styled like a hand gun, it fit adequately into his thigh holster and was apparently an Icer that would knock people out for up to 15 minutes depending on their body weight.

“It’s like those zombie movies you know?” she joked “Double tap.”

“Zombie movie?”

“Oh my God Barnes, you have so much to catch up on! Never mind, I’ve got all the good ones, we’ll watch them in Vermont.”

They left the car where it was in the barn and hiked the few miles back to the compound. They’d identified a weak spot in the fence on the side closes to them, where a trees branches hung over providing cover and easy access.

Ana had snuck into the compound behind a tradesman as he came in from a smoke break outside earlier in the evening, and was now ‘snuggling up to the security system’ in Alex’s words. He just hoped this op was going to go to plan because there was a lot of weird shit going on in his head right now, and trying to ‘be’ the Asset was getting harder every day.


	8. In and out

I sidled cautiously up to the door, which had a flashing security panel on one side that was clearly meant to be swiped with a card for entry. Ana had the camera on this side locked down, but security were due past in just under 10 minutes and Barnes was looking distinctly jumpy for someone whose only clear memories probably involved espionage and other murdery pursuits.

I needed to get a little deeper before trying to convince the panel that I was a lovely, friendly person who should ‘absolutely’ be let in, even though I didn’t have a card. Unscrewing a tiny access panel at the bottom, I slid my hand up into the tangle of wires and closed my eyes, reaching out with the weird part of my mind that lets me communicate with technology.

Time slid past as I first dismantled the alarm that had tried to trigger as soon as it detected me, and then slowly dug into the tiny reader that made the decision to turn the light green and open the door. “Come on, come one” I muttered, it was like trying to have a conversation with an automated telephone service. It seemed very hung up on “Please swipe your card for access.” I gritted my teeth and tried to work faster, time was running out fast.

Finally, with about 30 seconds to spare there was a quiet click, and the light on the scanner almost grudgingly, turned green. I lunged for the handle, pulling it open before the stupid thing decided to change its mind. 

“Come on Barnes, we’re in”.

We ducked quickly inside the door, pulling it shut behind us, just as the voices of the security team became audible. Inside was sadly no dank, dark warehouse. Trust Tony Stark to have a perfect shelving system that reached up to the ceiling and blazing lights, in a basically deserted storage facility.

What I was looking for was an project the great Mr Stark had mothballed when he’d invented the Jarvis system to run his life. It was basically Jarvis Mark 1, or possibly Mark 25 or something because it did work, just not as completely as he’d wanted. Since I didn’t have the luxury of enough time to create a top tier interactive security system for my Vermont safe house from scratch, this would get me 80% of the way there, with one quick heist (hopefully!).

“Okay Barnes, my source says he stores things by date, which was somewhere around mid-2001, so start looking around for dates on boxes. Won’t be huge, I think it’s in a box about two foot square. I’ll know it when I see it, so start digging.”

Barnes gave the seemly miles of shelving and vaulted ceilings a fairly sardonic glance and headed off towards the right of the door. Smiling a little grimly to myself I headed to the left. Time to find out if that information was worth what I’d paid for it.

Heart in my mouth I started checking the shelves for any identifying marks, there were boxes of all shapes and sizes, from cardboard, to wooden, to what looked a lot like lead, each with a neat little barcode sticker on the front. The problem was, each sticker contained four lines of data, none of which looked like a year. Ignoring the slightly sick feeling in my stomach, I walked on quickly, studying the barcodes as I went, looking for a pattern. Finally as I was starting to feel that this needle in a haystack mission was going to fail, the first two numbers on the top line of text changed. While the last 8 numbers had changed constantly, the 05 at the start of the string had remained unchanged for several long shelves. The abrupt change from 05 to 06 made me have another, calmer, look at the string of numbers. 0511221034 read the one nearest me, followed by 0511292210. I nearly yelled when it came to me! Abbreviated international standard date and time notation.

“Barnes!” I hissed quietly into the comms link, “Barnes, it’s an abbreviated form of date and time. The top line on the barcode is YYMMDDHHMM, I’m in 05/06 over here, what do you have?”

There was a few seconds too many of silence before Barnes raspy tones answered back in my ear, “Got it, it’s jumping around a bit over this way. If you’re right then it looks like late 80’s early 90’s have been jammed in together when they needed the space over near the far doors for storage.”

I jogged out from behind my shelf, looking towards the back of the building and the currently closed doors that lead through into the rest of the complex. As Barnes had said there were piles of equipment and stores and the shelving units had been emptied and pushed back against the walls to make space for pallets of jackhammers, drills and other assorted tools.

I started running, now I knew what I was looking for, I heard faint sounds as Barnes approached at a steady jog, reading labels as he came, and then a soft grunt in my comms as his footsteps ceased.

“01, I’m two rows behind you.”

“On my way.” I rounded the corner, and together we split the row, looking for a discarded piece of Tony Stark’s genius that would keep us safe. Knives in hand we efficiently slit open any box that looked approximately the right size from 2001, but a quick flick was enough to discount most. Finally after climbing the towering shelves to the top, I found the box. Inside was a jumble of cables, a flat black box with the word ‘Overlord’ scrawled across the top in red paint pen, and several disks. “Yep, no delusions of grandeur there, Tony.”

“I’ve got it.” I dropped the box carefully down to Barnes and opted for the fastest way down, simply stepping off the edge and landing, cat silent beside Barnes on the floor nearly 9 yards below. He looked at me, blinked slowly and without comment turned and headed for the exit. Interesting.

Barnes tucked the box securely under his flesh arm, and we ran to the exit. I was so busy trying to get Ana out without alerting the security system to her presence in the first place that I nearly ran into a shelf or two, until Barnes seemed to realise and grabbed me by my sleeve and basically towed me along. When we got to the exit I stopped and leaned up against the wall, reaching out again to argue with the most passive aggressive door I’d ever had the misfortune to encounter. Typical bloody Starks.

I had no attention to spare for Ana, who was trying to sneak out of the building on the other side without security spotting her, and by the time I’d convinced the door, that “Yes, I’ve forgotten my pass.. again,” my hands were shaking and blood was running out of my nose so fast, I’d absently ripped out the lining of my coat pocket and used it to staunch the flow.

We were going to have to head out blind as Ana was still skulking around the east side exit waiting for a way out. Apparently no one needed a cigarette at 3am, and the doors on that side of the complex stayed firmly shut.

Barnes pushed the box into my arms, “You look like shit, take the box and get out if we’re seen.”

It was a hero move. I was pretty sure the Asset would have always been told to save himself first, he was far more valuable than any humans accompanying him, so this was Barnes. I guess I could see why Captain America was so hung up on him. Even so, I pushed the box back at him.

“Barnes, if I get seen or even caught, I’m no one, there are no records on me, I’m a thief, a helpless girl who was looking for something to sell to survive.” I looked as pitiful as I could and fluttered my eyelashes theatrically at him. “But if they see you, we are in a world of pain. They will swarm the place. Ironman and Captain America will be combing the countryside for you, black ops around every corner, and if they catch you, we have no way of knowing what they’ll do. What is left of the American security council is going to want to throw you in the darkest hole they have and we don’t know if the Avengers are going to want to stop them. At last count you’ve tried to kill at least three of them.”

He flinched back from me, cold seeped into his eyes and for a moment, the Winter Soldier looked back at me, but after long frozen seconds, he grunted, accepting my point and the box back, drew his gun and nodded at me to go first. 

I slipped through the door and into the crisp, cold night. The floodlights on the building lit the place up like it was daylight and I noted the shot for each light in passing as I checked for security. It looked clear and if they stuck to their timing we should have another 3 minutes, but as I was about to signal Barnes the all clear, four guards walked around the eastern corner arguing good naturedly.

“Geez Eric, what do you mean the door looked a bit funny last rotation? I’m starting to think you’ve been out here a bit long, might be due a rotation in Stark Tower. At least there when the doors talk to you there’ll be a good reason.”

“Fucking door” I muttered, in the milliseconds before they noticed me, I shot out the lights, and strongly considered shooting that shit of a door panel too. Might hit Barnes, better not.

As soon as the lights went out, the door opened and Barnes shot out like a bullet, heading for the gap in the fence. He’d head for the car and get the heck out of search range as fast as possible. I’d find him as soon as I’d shaken any tail. 

The sound of bullets shattering glass pinpointed my position for them brilliantly “дерьмо”. I dived to the side, shooting off several rounds from my Icer, blind. There was a grunt and some muffled chatter as the guards called in reinforcements, might have hit one. The gunfire had one benefit in waking someone on the East side and drawing them outside, so Ana could slip out and start giving me visuals and numbers. Clearly the four guards I’d attacked had been the only team awake as no one else burst out the building in response to the call for backup. I probably had a minute, these weren’t high level security contractors used to slamming their feet into their boots and being operational in 5 seconds.

Lights blazed on as the guards found flashlights they’d dropped, and I dropped another two. One to go.

“Lights off, you idiots, you’ll make yourself a target.”

I fired in the direction of the words twice, heard him dive to the side and then silence. Hit.. maybe.

I couldn’t wait to make sure and took off fast at a tangent to the direction Barnes had gone. I could run at a pretty good pace for 10 to 15 miles if I’d slept and eaten in the last 24 hours. We’d agreed if separated, I would head north and we’d meet up around the turn onto the NY-212 E about 10 miles away, which, given my rest during the day should be an easy run. I love it when these little thoughts pop into my head, it’s like I’ve taken out a massive freaking neon advertisement asking that gorgeous blond dude with the hammer to strike me with lightning (not the good kind. Sigh.) Almost as soon as the thought occurred I felt the signature burning pain blossom in my thigh as the final guard got in a lucky shot in the dark. I turned my fall into a roll, coming to my feet again, swearing under my breath and waiting in total silence. I heard him move and his comms crackle. I fired two quick shots and was rewarded by the sound of a body dropping, finally, and took off again to the sounds and images of backup barreling out multiple doors in the building.

“Chyort voz'mi!” Russian was a deeply satisfying language to swear in I thought, it might be nice to run through every single word and phrase I knew. Didn’t want to get rusty, and it would give me something to do while I ran 10 miles with a bullet in my leg.

I ran flat out for the first mile, which is pretty fast even in combat boots. In just over 4 minutes, I pulled up, cut my jeans open and efficiently covered the wound with some emergency supplies from my vest ( ie duct tape). The wound was high up on my leg, and only on one side dammit, so the bullet was still in there, but mustn’t have hit my femur or any major arteries or I’d be dead already what with the run speeding my blood along. It was only bleeding sluggishly when I covered it, so I blocked the pain out, got up and started running steadily towards the rendezvous point. I can usually run 10 miles in under an hour, but after the first 5 or 6, I had to cut my speed to almost a jog as the pain wore me out faster than usual. By the time I arrived at the Blue Mountain Road turn point, I was almost walking and nearly 2 hours had passed. I leaned against a tree out of view of the road and waited for Ana to let me know when Barnes go here.

“You’re late.” Barnes harsh tones jolted me awake only minutes later, the grey, early morning light showing a scowl to match the tone. “I thought they must have got you until your thing turned up a few minutes ago.” His eyes swept over me briskly, snagging on the duct taped tear in my jeans. “You hit?”

“Meh, a bit. Sorry about the wait.” I wasn’t dying, so I brushed it off, although I accepted the hand he held out to help me up. “Where’s the car?” I hoped not too far, this walking thing had knobs on it at the moment.

We moved through the woods to where Barnes had parked the car in a secluded spot off the road, I was hoping he’d offer to drive and I’d be able to sit for a minute, but as soon as we got to the car Barnes opened the back door and motioned in. 

“Sit.” He growled at me “I want to have a look at your leg.”

“Oh Barnes,” I fluttered my eyelashes at him, “I thought your heart belongs to another.”

Apparently he was getting used to me, because he didn’t even look up from the front seat where he was rummaging in my Tardis like duffel for medical supplies.

“Do you get infections? Is the bullet still in there? Was it bleeding much before you taped it?” He rattled off short questions as he looked through my meager medical supplies.

“Sometimes. Yes. Not much.” I was feeling a bit grumpy and sitting down was making a rather pleasant lethargy seep through my body.

Suddenly there was a sharp sting in my neck and Barnes was withdrawing a spent auto injector of antibiotics and throwing it in a plastic trash bag. 

“If you can block pain, get on with it.” He said shortly, “I’m going to take the bullet out, not like we can waltz into a hospital in town. I’ve done more with less equipment in the field.”

He sounded pretty confident, actually, he didn’t even really sound like my Barnes. Clipped, confident and no nonsense, his hands sure on my basic surgical instruments. I had the weirdest feeling that this was Sergeant Barnes talking. A WW11 soldier would have learned the basics of field medicine, especially how to deal with minor bullet wounds. He’d snapped on gloves and was busy sterilizing my equipment like he performed minor surgery in the back of a Camry every day.

I was pretty tired, I lay back and tried to construct a block for the pain. I was good at this, I could do it without even thinking, but I was worn down, it had been a pretty stressful few weeks with little sleep and in the end, when he slipped the forceps into the hole in my leg, I decided that perhaps I’d take the easy route and pass out. I’d be safe with Barnes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> дерьмо - shit  
> Chyort voz'mi - Dammit


	9. Backlash

Barnes glanced back at the unconscious woman in the seat behind him, her wounded leg stretched through the gap between the front and back seats of the car. She’d clearly decided she was safe with him, or she’d never had let herself pass out. He finished working on her leg, packing the wound and bandaging it securely before shifted her back so she was curled on the backseat and started driving. They were heading for somewhere near Royalton in Vermont. The GPS on the car said that was about four hours away, so he’d just start driving. She’d be awake by the time he needed more specific directions.

In fact, it was only 20 minutes later when there was a muffled grumble from the back seat and Alex sat up rubbing her head. She rubbed her hand over her bandaged leg and glanced up, catching his eye briefly in the rear view mirror with a slight nod and twitch of eyebrow and lip to signify her gratitude. He felt weirdly gratified that they didn’t need words.

When he glanced back a little later she was deep in the contents of the box, attaching things to it from the side pocket of the duffel and muttering encouragement to it. About two hours later they rolled into Saratoga Springs and Barnes rolled to a stop in an empty, early morning car park.

Alex glanced up from her project and raised an eyebrow. “Breakfast” he replied and indicated the city outside the window.

“Good idea.” She glanced down at her ruined jeans, and up at the mirror which showed she looked like she’d been dragged vigorously through a bush, flicked a look at him to confirm he looked just as bad and pulled out her phone. “We’re going to need a shower and a change of clothes if we’re not going to get arrested for something though.”

Barnes, while not particularly keen on waiting for breakfast could see her point. Five minutes later he’d given his hands and face a quick wash with a bottle of water and was walking into the 24hr Walmart with a list, a wad of cash and fluttery feeling in his stomach that he thought might be nervous. He’d couldn’t remember buying clothes for himself let alone women’s undergarments. What the heck was a 30C under wire. Sounded painful.

Twenty of the most embarrassing minutes of his life (that he could remember) later Barnes walked back out loaded down with bags. He dumped them into the back seat and took off as if the hounds of hell where after him. “I did not enjoy that.” An understatement of epic proportions, but he had a reputation to uphold after all.

There was a slightly muffled chuckle from the back seat. “I figured someone would take pity on you and help you out. I told you to play the big, dumb dude card.”

“I did. Someone helped. It was…” he couldn’t think of a word to describe it. He supposed he should be happy he was feeling so many things these days, but to be honest, he’d probably prefer to murder someone than endure the mix of sympathy and condescension he’d been met with in the ladies department. At least, given the satisfied hums coming from the backseat, he’d actually done okay. The electronics requests had been much easier.

Alex’s phone called out directions to a dirty looking hotel on the way out of town. The lady at the reception was unfriendly and unwashed, but she took cash, didn’t worry about ID and paid no attention to their bedraggled state. The room was run down and he felt a momentary stab of gratitude that they wouldn’t be sleeping in the beds, he thought he could actually see the dirty cover moving slightly. He ducked back outside for a tarp from the car that he spread on the floor for their bags. Alex glanced at the beds and the tarp, gave a quiet huff of laughter, took clean clothes and cling wrap for her bandaged leg and disappeared into the bathroom. He put the new duffel he’d bought alongside hers and started separating their new clothes. She’d told him to buy two of everything so he unpacked their surplus clothes and other items into the duffels, keeping a set of clean clothes out for himself. Shower and breakfast he thought with pleasure, glancing down, and his things in his own duffel. Even as he acknowledged the thought, there was a searing pain in his head, his vision went black and someone was screaming. A voice screamed at him that he was nothing, not human, just a weapon, he did only what he was told, wore what he was given, ate what was in front of him, owned nothing, he wasn’t a person, just a thing that taken out, used and put away again. He huddled on the floor, holding his head and rocking, as the pain went on and on. If only the screaming would stop.

He heard a crash as the bathroom door flew open and Alex bolted out, naked except for boots, gun in hand. The screaming stopped and he realized it had been him. The pain in his head eased slowly and he squeezed himself into a tighter ball, afraid to think in case the pain started again. Alex crouched next to him, dripping on the carpet, and touched a gentle hand to his forehead. He felt a slight tingle, a feeling of warmth and she stroked his hair back from his eyes. The memory of the pain receded further and he uncurled a bit, slowly.

“It’s getting a bit crowded in there Barnes.” She sighed and rose, heading back into the bathroom to dry off and dress, “Go and shower, the sooner we get to Vermont the better.”

He slowly pulled himself to his feet, carefully averting his eyes from the duffel, he grabbed his clothes and headed into the bathroom as she came out. He washed himself, ignoring the sensation of barely hot water, dried and dressed mechanically, not stopping to look in the mirror. When he came out, she’d already stored the bags in the car, and was waiting, engine running, outside. He got in the passenger seat and stared straight ahead, not questioning.

He felt her concerned glance, but she drove wordlessly up the road to a country style diner, and lined the little gray Camry up alongside the Ford and Dodge pickups already packing the lot behind it. He walked in and sat down, the waitress came by, automatically poured them coffee and passed out menus. He stared at his unseeing, his felt like his mind was somewhere deep down inside him, hiding under a mountain of blankets like a scared child. The words swam on the page, meaningless.

Seeming to sense his predicament Alex ordered and sat silently waiting. Barnes wasn’t waiting, he was existing, like the static on TVs when no shows were on. Food was placed in front of him, and he ate. He didn’t taste it. Time passed and he was instructed to go to the car and get in, and it started moving. He didn’t ask where.

“I knew this was going to happen. You knew this, don’t freak out, this had to happen sooner or later, at least we’re close. Two hours, I just need you to hang on two hours Barnes.” The person driving was muttering to herself as she drove. She seemed to want him to hang on to something, so he tried to find something in the shifting, rolling mess in his head to hold on to, and suddenly Steve was there, smiling down at him in an Austrian shit hole seventy years ago. So he held on to that.

He wasn’t aware of time passing, but at some point, the car slowed, turned onto a rutted driveway traveled along it, and then stopped. He became aware that someone was talking to him, asking him to get out of the car and follow them into a house. It seemed he was required to make a decision, so he decided to stay where he was. It was quiet for a while, then the voice came back and this time it did not ask, it held a note his body remembered and it ordered him out of the car. He followed obediently into a building and sat where it told him. He felt his shoes being removed, his jacket was tugged off, and he was told to lay down. A cool hand was laid on his head, tingling warmth spread outwards from it until his whole body felt like it was vibrating. Finally the hand was withdrawn, the voice said “That will do for now Barnes.” There was a light touch on his cheek, “sleep” the voice said, and he did.

Barnes awoke to a room he’d never seen before, sunk in gloom from dark curtains, but with tiny chinks of light at the edges that suggested it was day outside. He lay completely still, controlling his breath as he assessed the room from beneath his eyelashes. How had he gotten here, what was the last thing he remembered? He tried to cast his mind back, his head hurt and he thought he might have been drugged. Captured? The room looked homely from what he could see with rustic furniture and a patchwork quilt on the chair next to him. He was in a room, on a bed, that was comfortably firm and smelled clean, and covered with so many blankets his limbs felt heavy. Maybe not captured then. He remembered Alex, breaking into the warehouse, driving, shopping.. his mind shuddered to a halt. Something bad had happened, something to do with 30C maybe. He stopped trying to think and made a careful move, designed to look natural, so he could look at the rest of the room. From beneath his lashes, he could see the other side of the room now, there was another chair, piled high with blankets, from which Alex was watching him, with a worried crease between her eyes. 

“Morning Barnes” It felt like it was a question somehow.

“Morning” He returned, and suddenly, relieved, “Where are we? Why do I have 2 tons of blankets on me? What happened?”

She gave a low laugh, that sounded relieved as well, “We’re in Vermont, its fucking freezing up here and by the time we got settled I didn’t feel like chopping wood. I think something triggered you in the hotel in Saratoga Springs”, she went on, “you went a bit catatonic on me. I tried to help once we got here, but I wasn’t sure it would work straight away. I’m glad you’re back.”

He felt awkward, he needed to pee, he really wanted coffee and he didn’t know what to say, so he nodded at her and heaved off his blanket load and sat up. And nearly laid straight back down again as a wave of dizziness and nausea hit him.

“Easy Barnes,” Alex had jumped up and come over, putting her hand on his shoulder and looking into his eyes with concern. “Dizzy?”

He grunted in assent and waited till the room stopped spinning. “I’m okay, it’s stopped.” He took another deep breath and let it out “What the heck was that.”

Her face was solemn, if he’d been feeling more with it, it would have been a dead giveaway he thought later, “Well Barnes, I didn’t want to be the one to tell you this, but it looks like morning sickness to me.. I think you’re pregnant.”

The room started spinning again, he’d fallen into some weird alternate reality, he had to escape, he lurched to his feet and bolted towards the door, only to be grabbed by Alex as he staggered. 

“Oh shit! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, too soon, too soon! I was just joking Barnes, just joking!”

His heartbeat slowly calmed and he glanced down at her. She gave him a lot of apologetic eyelashes and dimples and he slowly started to feel more normal, “potselui mou zhopy,” he grumbled. He had a feeling, if he survived this whole thing and came out the other end vaguely sane, that one day, one day, this story would somehow get retold in a very embarrassing way, probably to Steve. He sighed.

“I’m really sorry Barnes, I basically communicate in sarcasm and bad jokes, but my timing is shit, I didn’t mean to freak you out.” Despite the exaggerated eyelashes, her voice was earnest.

“It’s okay, at least I’m completely awake and out of bed and the morning sickness has eased off.” He grumbled half-jokingly, before turning to head into the bathroom and realizing that he had absolutely no idea where it was. 

Alex seemed to recognize his dilemma, “your gear’s in the cupboard, bathroom’s across the hallway, kitchen is down the end. I’ll fill you in on the head stuff over breakfast.”

The bathroom was large, clean and tiled in rather blinding white tiles that made his eyes ache, but the water was hot enough to raise blisters, and didn’t run out while he stood there and soaked. His mind felt weird, like something was missing, but he didn’t exactly want to pry into it, he had a feeling he wouldn’t like the results. After dressing in fresh clothes, he headed down the hallway towards the smell of cooking bacon and coffee.

Alex pointed a spatula in the direction of the coffee machine as he came in, and continued to cook bacon. “No eggs, just bacon and flapjacks I had in the deep freeze. I’ll head into town later and stock up.”

He dumped creamer and sugar in his coffee and sat down at the kitchen table. The kitchen was small, but as clean as the rest of the house, and Alex moved round it with a calmness and confidence that spoke volumes. She’d bought him to more than a safe house, this was her home.

They ate in silence, soaking up coffee and it wasn’t till they’d finished that she seemed ready to talk. “Things got a little hairy yesterday Barnes. I think whatever happened, caused too much cognitive dissonance for the Asset part of your brain. Your mind tried to shut down for a while because nothing made sense, and you went a bit catatonic. I had to go in, jiggle some stuff around. It probably feels a little weird today, because I put up a temporary barrier around some of the really bad Winter Soldier stuff. We’re going to have to face it at some point, but right then I just wanted you functioning again so we could talk about how we’re going to do this. It’s best for both of us if we go in with fully informed consent.”

My brain feels staticy, fuzzy at the edges and there’s something in there that wasn’t there before, is that your wall thing?” 

“Yep, I’m sorry I bunged it in there without asking, I wasn’t sure if you’d come out on your own. I am absolutely winging this shit, and like that joke this morning, sometimes I’m going to completely stuff up and read situations wrong. The only person I’ve tried to really help with this mind stuff is me, and to be honest, I’m still pretty fucked up.” 

“Okay.” He considered for a minute and gave a short nod “I don’t mind you doing the wall thing, it’s like being in combat, sometimes the only choices are bad. What I really need to know is, what’s going to happen, what will you do and what’s the end goal with this mind stuff.”

“You see!” She stood up and grabbed more coffee for them both, “This is why I needed you awake. What’s going to happen is firstly, nothing you don’t’ agree to from here on, we’re safe here and can take our time. I’d like to start going in every second day, start finding memories, look for traps or mind control and try and take it out, I’m running a bit blind until I really get in there and try, but that’s the plan.”

“Why every second day? Do you get tired, or is it me?”

“A bit of both, you’ll probably sleep badly the first night and the second day, you’ll have to deal with the new memories, but yes, I’ll get tired as well. I’m not sure what will happen, like I said a while back, you’re numb now, only mild feelings are getting through. When you start to remember what you did as the Asset, you might not feel much for a while, but eventually I’m going to unearth enough of the real James Barnes that you’ll start to feel the way he did about stuff, and I can pretty much guarantee that he’s going to be pretty torn up about it. I’ll do what I can to help, but to be honest, the only person who can make some sort of peace with it, is you. I mean, I could wall all the bad feelings off, and you could go on your merry way, but I’ve got the feeling once you have the real you back, you won’t be any keener on that idea that I was. You have to feel it. It’ll bring you to your knees some days, but if you don’t feel it, it’s like you’re forgetting what you did again, but this time by choice.”

He thought she was probably right about that. A guy couldn’t be Steve Rogers lifelong best friend without at least a little of that justice fueled maniacs ideals rubbing off he figured. “Let’s start tomorrow then,” he said “we’ve got some stores to get in, and I’d like to get a feel for this place, find my way around.”

She nodded and they cleaned up breakfast in companionable silence. It felt normal and safe, washing the dishes and wiping the counters. Afterwards Alex said something about setting up security, and he followed her down into the basement. It wasn’t like the grungy basement of the house in DC, it was painted and well lit, there was a surveillance center along the wall opposite the stairs, with monitors showing live video of every direction outside. A large area of padded mats with weights and bags for sparing or workouts filled the left end of the basement, and at the other end was a door partitioning off a section, fitted with a hand scanner for entry. 

He gave the door a questioning glance, and she nodded, “Armory, come over here and I’ll set up your palm print for entry.” She scanned his palm print, touched a few buttons and nodded again. “Give it a try.”

He headed over to the door and scanned his hand, the door clicked open and he did a double take. He’d seen Hydra bases that had less equipment “Is that a Snayperskaya Vintovka sistem'y Dragunova? And an M1? I used to have one of those back in the war.” His eyes wandered over the older model guns to new M41A carbines with grenade launcher attachments, to rows of grenades and even a wall of lethal looking bows and arrows. The back wall had handguns on shadow board, at least three different models of his favorite SIG-Sauer, a couple of Glocks and some of the newest Heckler Koch P12’s. Underneath were drawers that held throwing knives, Shuriken and a variety of jewelry and hair accessories, that he could only assume, given the company they were keeping, were also deadly.

Alex had wandered in behind him. “At least if anyone comes, we’ll have lots of toys to play with. Plus, I think I still have a couple of Крюк rocket launchers under the flooring panel there.” She indicated a hand pull in the center of the floor. It occurred to him then, that he reason he’d seen Hydra bases that weren’t’ this well stocked, was that she’d been flogging all their stuff for years.

“It is entirely possible that we’re soul mates” he said, nodding his head at the room, before turning to leave.

“Now, now Barnes, don’t go soft on me for my armory, whatever would Steve say!”

He threw a thunderous scowl her way, which she completely ignored and left her humming happily as she started connecting the Overlord system into her security.

He quickly explored the house, a two bed, two bath ranch, before heading outside to get his bearings. Alex was right, it was fucking freezing, he thought, ducking back inside to grab a heavy jacket from beside the door. The property had an old barn over to the east of the house, which proved to hold their stolen Camry and a Dodge pickup that looked even older than the barn. The driveway was narrow and rutted, leading down to the west. He heard the sound of running water and followed it until he came to a small stream, and sat at the edge for a while, absorbing the smell of damp rotting leaves and fresh water, and the sound of bird calls and the gush and gurgle of the steam. He rose and followed the stream for a while, and then headed back up the hill, walking a half mile perimeter of the house. There was a small orchard, the trees stripped of their leaves by autumn, and closer to the house a vegetable garden, which had seen better days. As he reached the house at the top of the hill again, he turned and took in the miles of neighbor less country, the trees glowing red and gold in their fall colors. Yes, he thought, Alex was right, this was a good place to lose your mind, and hopefully to find it again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> potselui mou zhopy - Kiss my ass  
> Snayperskaya Vintovka sistem'y Dragunova - Sniper Rifle, System of Dragunov  
> Крюк - Hook


	10. The best laid plans.. and the Stark factor.

Tony was pacing around his lab yelling instructions and questions at Jarvis when Steve burst through the doors. “Jarvis said something had happened, is it him, is it Bucky?”

Tony paused his pacing long enough to take in the fact that Steve was there, and then, clearly deciding this was not important, resumed his questions. “Jarvis, don’t tell Steve about my stuff, and get me the aerial footage of my warehouse!”

“Okay Tony, what’s happened, is this Avengers stuff?” Steve walked over to Tony’s one comfy chair (that he was pretty sure was only there because Pepper had snuck it in for Bruce) and sat down. He’d been out of the hospital for a nearly a week now, but his healing face, ribs and bullet wounds weren’t the only things making him tired, how could he sleep knowing Bucky was out there somewhere.

“Nope, nothing to do with Avengers, just a warehouse that I’m.. “ there was a pause while Tony seemed to be mentally reviewing what he’d just said, “nothing to do with the Avengers really. Just a warehouse I’m renovating got broken in to and there is..” he turned to the monitors and started yelling “ZERO FUCKING FOOTAGE. I’m sorry, Jarvis, remind me why I keep you around again?”

“Now, now Sir.” Jarvis’s clipped British tones sounded as unfazed as usual. “I’m running through all the surveillance footage of the site for the last few days. As you said Sir, it’s under renovation, workmen everywhere, it’s possible that they’ve caused a minor breach. So far we can’t identify what, if anything, was taken, or that the intruder even made it into the warehouse. A guard said the door looked bit funny, but the door itself is completely denying that anyone gained access without a swipe card. It seemed very sure Sir.”

“The guard said he shot someone Jarvis, so maybe the door is lying.” Tony sounded like his teeth were gritted now.

“Oh I really don’t think it would do that Sir, it seemed quite certain.”

Steve, thought it was a bit odd to be talking about the door like that, but this was Tony. “Tony, has there been anything on Bucky, have there been any hits at all?” He didn’t like how desperate he sounded, but he was. The Winter Soldier had dragged him from the river, made a decision to save his life that proved he must remember something, and then disappeared. As Natasha always told him, he was a soldier, not a spy, he’d never find him on his own, he was a ghost.

Tony turned, arrested momentarily by Steve’s tone and seemed to focus on him properly for the first time. “You look like shit! How did you get here? Why are you even walking around, did Sam let you come here? I thought you were still moping around at his place in DC, looking at real estate listings online? I liked the one in Cobble Hill by the way, nice place, plenty of room, cute garden.

“Tony, dammit are you stalking my private computer again? I thought we discussed boundaries, you know, after that time you bought up my Google history at the team meeting?”

“Ah yes, about that Sir,” Jarvis chimed in calmly “I was merely checking on your security in light of the recent events with SHIELD and happened to notice your interest in that particular property, which I might have mentioned to Mr Stark. I do apologize Sir.”

“You know Steve, in spite of my, and when I say my, I mean Pepper’s legion of lawyers, it could take years for the military to cough up your back pay. Even though they’ve admitted your active-duty status they’ll be quibbling about the actual amount for a while yet.” Tony paused, and produced what definitely looked like a pout. “And since, despite building everyone a perfectly lovely floor in the tower, apparently Natasha and Bruce have both offered to go in with you on a brownstone, I thought I’d just save you all some hassle and buy it now. So I did. You can pay me back when they get done squabbling.” He finished the last in a rush so it actually took Steve a minute to process it all.

“You did what? Tony did you buy my house? Dammit Tony I haven’t even seen it yet!”   
Steve lost track of a bit of time while he yelled at Tony and Tony did his best to ignore him. He finally paused and delivered what he felt was the winning argument “Natasha is going to kill you.”

“No.” Tony swung around and straightened from the console he’d been work at, “No, I thought she might, but Clint dropped by a few days ago.. early.. unannounced” the last two seemed to be directed at the ceiling with a distinct bite, “and said he liked the place, be nice to have somewhere to bunk when he was in town. He also mentioned on his way out that Natasha probably wouldn’t kill me as long as you agreed to go along with it because.. and I quote “Tash wants to be the cool upstairs auntie to all the gorgeous little super hero babies Steve will have when she finally finds the right girl for him, and if you fuck that up for her I will kill you myself.”

Steve watched himself turn an exciting shade of pink in the mirrored window behind Tony, “Ahh” he gave an uncomfortable cough and swung around to study the other side of the lab while his cheeks cooled. They both paused, considering the relentless matchmaking that Natasha had subjected Steve to from practically the day they met. Tony looked like he was very much trying not to visualize something, and returned to zooming in and out on footage of his warehouse with a wave of his hands.

Steve refocused with an effort on the argument, “Fine then Tony, I’ll just say no and the property will be on the market again once Tash and Clint kill you.” 

Tony seemed to be somewhat taken aback, but before he say anything, the doors to the lab opened and Pepper Potts came in. Impeccably dressed, not a hair out of place, Steve sometimes wondered what Pepper saw in Tony until he saw them together. They were order and chaos, and together there was the almost audible click of two people creating a perfect whole.

“Steve, how lovely to see you, I’m so glad you’re feeling better.” She kissed his cheek warmly, smiling at him, and he had a bad feeling that the argument was lost.

He rallied determinedly, “I’m fine Pepper, just having a discussion with Tony about a property I was looking at, it seems that Tony snapped it up, but I’m sure something just as good will come along shortly. Until my back pay comes through I just window shopping anyway.”

Pepper threw a deeply reproachful glance at Tony, who threw up his hands and turned away, pretending to tinker with something on the bench next to him. “Oh Steve, Tony is dreadful at explaining things, you know he is, why don’t you come upstairs and we’ll talk.

As Steve trailed after her towards the lift to her office, he had the feeling that once Pepper was done ‘explaining’ things to him, he’d believe black was white and up was down. Still, he did want that house and giving into Pepper was a lot better than Tony, after all even Tony gave in to Pepper most of the time. 

He’d looked at the photos a thousand times on-line, even called the agent to ask questions and get more photos sent. It was a warm, classic brownstone with hardwood floors and high ceilings, the setup was perfect for them, with four full floor flats, and a backyard where he could already imagine their downtime, hanging out and cooking barbecue. Space enough for privacy, but close enough to ease the loneliness that came with their lives, their jobs and their baggage.

He’d mentioned his plans to Nat and Bruce about buying a brownstone with his back pay over a month ago, and when first Nat and then Bruce had told him they’d like a floor, it had almost stopped his breath. Since coming out of the ice over two years ago, loneliness had been Steve’s constant companion. He’d had his work, an occasional friendly word with a nurse next door, who turned out to be a SHIELD agent anyway, and that was it. It was only a few days ago, they’d been standing around in Sam’s kitchen in DC looking at the plans and photos spread out on the table. Bruce had taken one look at the floor-plans and tapped the parlor level, “Yep, we’d feel safe there.” Steve noticed Bruce referred to himself as ‘we’ without even noticing sometimes, he wasn’t sure if that meant he was growing more accepting of his dual nature, or just going nuts. They all had baggage, not all of it was, as Tony put it, “an enormous green rage monster,’ but none of it was light. If Bruce wanted the lower level for himself and the ‘Big guy’, it was his. 

Natasha had stared at the plans for a long time, her face almost terrifyingly blank, in an expression that Steve had grown to realise signaled something she really cared about. Her finger traced the photos and plans of the second and third floors over and over. He’d thought she’d take the top level for ease of access, but her finger kept returning to the second floor, with its massive main bedroom, private bath and walk in closet, the layout clearly appealed more than the third floor, with its equal size bedrooms and single shared bathroom. Clint decided it, poking his head over her shoulder and tapping the smaller back bedroom on the second floor. “I had a look, easy access here, and Nat won’t have to share her bathroom.”

They’d all turned to look at him and he just shrugged “What? Nat mentioned it a few days ago, seemed important so I checked it out. Took the train, nice day trip. Said hello to Tony.”

They would hardly want to rent the top floor to a stranger, but in his head, Steve had already convinced Sam to leave his place in DC and move in with them, after all he was part of the Avengers now. Top floor, easy access off the roof for wings, it fit perfectly. Even deeper, in the shadowy and desperate parts of his mind Steve knew that he wanted Bucky to be living there with them as well, part of the team. Part of ‘Steve and Bucky’ whose names had fit together like a single word, yelled by their parents out windows and down streets in their youth, shouted in uproarious celebration by the Howling Commandos after successful missions. But somehow he could never imagine Bucky living anywhere but in the ground floor apartment with him. When his mom died and he’d moved onto Bucky’s couch, he’d thought he’d never have a home again, but then Bucky got work at the docks and Steve picked up some illustrating work and somehow they’d scraped together enough to find a tiny bedsit, just down the road from Bucky’s folks. It was tiny, ugly, dirty and the plumbing screeched like the damned, but somehow the two of them made it their home for nearly five years, until the war took Steve and Bucky away forever. He’d packed up their apartment and left a box of things with Bucky’s mum, but sadly nothing was kept after they were both believed killed in action. He would have given anything to have a reminder of those days, and now he knew Bucky was alive, he’d give anything for them to be together again. He didn’t’ care if all Bucky could remember was a single sentence, from the day Steve’s mom died. He’d take it, he’d take anything.

Pepper cleared her throat, recalling him from memories of that long gone apartment, and began explaining the legal strategy that had supposedly prompted the purchase of his brownstone. Ah heck, he was already referring to it as his, he may as well just give in now and save Pepper some time. “It’s okay Pepper, I appreciate you trying to smooth things over between me and Tony. I know his heart’s in the right place, and I also know he likes to get a rise out of me. It’s okay. I want the house, I need it. So I’ll accept it. If you could let Tony and Jarvis know that I’d appreciate my privacy from now on, that would be much appreciated. Thank you Ma’am.”

He took the papers she offered him, signing where directed and left the tower the proud owner of a four story brownstone in Clinton street, Cobble Hill. It wasn’t quite Brooklyn Heights, but it was close enough. He caught the 57st train, got off at Bergen St and a short walk later was standing in front of his new home.

He hadn’t mentioned to anyone that he was coming to New York today, but he wasn’t really surprised when Natasha materialized at his shoulder as he stood there, staring up the stoop at the black glossy double front doors. “Come on then Rogers” she prompted him “let’s take a look.”


End file.
